


The Imprisonment of my Love for You

by hawkeyescoffee



Series: Jonsa Week 2019 by Aleks [3]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Awkward Sexual Situations, Bisexual Daenerys Targaryen, Children of Characters, Drunk Sex, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Family Dynamics, Future Fic, Grief/Mourning, Jon Snow Knows Nothing, Jon Snow is Not Called Aegon, Love Confessions, Marital rape of a minor character, Marriage of Convenience, Minor Arya Stark/Gendry Waters, Minor Daenerys Targaryen/ Male OCs, Minor Tyrion Lannister/Westerlands OC, Minor Yara Greyjoy & Iron Islands OC, Minor Yara Greyjoy/Daenerys Targaryen, Miscarriage, Mutual Pining, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Other Jonsa Children will be added, Other Ships Not Mentioned in Tags, Past Sexual Abuse, Queen Daenerys Targaryen, Rape/Non-con Elements, Sexual Tension, Unresolved Romantic Tension, ignoring season 8, ocs/canon characters, rape warning for chapter 3, succession problems
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-20
Updated: 2021-01-16
Packaged: 2021-02-17 23:28:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 6
Words: 57,242
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21501556
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hawkeyescoffee/pseuds/hawkeyescoffee
Summary: Of Sansa Starks childrenOne would reign over WinterfellOne would reign over Kings LandingOne would reign over Castle BlackBut the marriage of Lady Stark and her cousin/brother husband didn’t start as a happy one.[Jonsa Week Day 3 Winterfell - King's Landing - Castle Black]
Relationships: Jon Snow & Arya Stark & Bran Stark & Sansa Stark, Jon Snow/Sansa Stark, Minor or Background Relationship(s), Sansa Stark & Daenerys Targaryen
Series: Jonsa Week 2019 by Aleks [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1546636
Comments: 15
Kudos: 186





	1. Robb Stark

**Author's Note:**

> Hallo Y'all!  
> I am so happy to share this WIP with all of you and ignore Season 8 with me, while giving (many) characters a happy ending

The beautiful and just Lady of Winterfell, Sansa Stark, had six beautiful and persistent children. All of them destined for great things, the Northerners were sure of it. What else was to be expected for a bloodline like this?

King Rhaegar Targaryen took the throne after his great-aunt Daenerys. He grew up to be a beloved and popular King, said to be just as handsome and sensitive as his grandfather and namesake. He was lovingly called Rickon Stark by the Northerners; he was, after all, the son of their Lady before he was Prince of the realm.

Lord Robb Stark reigned over the North for his brother. He had the typical Stark look, just like his father. Some of the older residents of Winter town looked at him when he was older and swore it was like seeing the ghost of the late Lord Eddard. He was said to be as wild and carefree as a young wolf.

Brandon Stark took after his father as Lord Commander of the Night’s Watch. He was said to be serious and quiet. His hair was of such a shade of dark brown that it almost blended with his black clothes and cloak. But even when the rest of his face was bland, his eyes were as startlingly blue as his mother’s. Some folks would whisper that they were almost as blue as a walker’s eyes.

Of Sansa Starks children

One would reign over Winterfell

One would reign over Kings Landing

One would reign over Castle Black

But the marriage of Lady Stark and her cousin/brother husband didn’t start as a happy one.

Jon and Sansa walked the stone floors of the half-rebuilt Red Keep side by side while Arya and Brienne were hot on their heels. Well on her way, Sansa had time to think, to calm herself, but she was still furious. The embers of her anger burned low and steady in her belly.

Members of the new Queensguard surrounded them when they came closer to the throne room. Young sons of southern Houses that survived the wars. She suppressed the urge to grab Jon’s hand, to hold it and feel the nice rush of familiarity in this place, that would probably haunt her for the rest of her life. But given the reason they were here, she just curled her fingers into her palm uselessly.

Arya looked at her, Sansa noticed but there was no time to talk about it.

The door swung open. Daenerys sat there on this damned iron chair. There were no rubble and no ashes anymore, but it still creeped her out. She looked regal and powerful, their new Targaryen Queen, clothed in a bloodred garment. Her hair was in a complicated braid, finished with a black and ruby dragon head crown. When Sansa bowed to her, Drogon flew by the colored windows, letting out a terrifying shriek.

“Lady Stark.”, Daenerys voice was sweet as honey, when she addressed Sansa. And Sansa? She got up swiftly with a pretty smile painted on her lips. The rim of her grey travel dress swung around her ankles. She knew that the Queen _knew_ that her smile was fake, her niceties were fake and her loyalty was a necessity not born out of love. But she walked and embraced her anyway, when she opened her arms in invitation. “You are beautiful as always, dear. It is so nice to see you again.”

Sansa looked down at her. “You flatter me, your Grace. You will always be the most radiant woman in the room.” It pleased her. They both knew it was only sweet-talking on Sansa’s part, but she imagined Daenerys still liked to hear it.

Sansa greeted Tyrion and Varys as well. While the Spider was dressed in expensive but simple clothes, sweet smelling as always, Tyrion looked rather different now, as Lord Lannister. He was clean shaven again. He was cladded in fabric as golden as his hair, the hand still pinned on his chest.

“Ser Brienne, Ser Arya, rise.“, the dragon Queen’s hand was still on Sansa’s shoulder but her violet eyes focused on the other two women, both knights, in the large room. They paid their respects even though Arya’s expression didn’t change much, the unreadable mask of a faceless man. She held her sister’s gaze for a while and it was reassuring.

Finally the dragon Queen turned to face Jon. “Nephew.”, the words that fell out her mouth were as cold as ice and just as stinging. “I know you are probably here to argue but my decision is final.” Jon rose. His faced scrunched, almost desperately. “Dany-“, he stopped himself, took a breath and tried again. “My Queen, please rethink your decision. It is-“

Sansa’s face was plastered with a sweet smile, that was just as empty as she felt. _Jon is arguing because he still loved her._ She smiled while her heart twisted painfully. _He still loves her._

_He still loves her._

_He still-_

“It is the best decision for the realm and one I think has perks for everyone.”, Daenerys didn’t raise her voice to shut Jon up, she didn’t need to. They all owed her. Without her, the war for the dawn would have been lost. Without her, they would all be mindless corpses now. Sansa didn’t like Daenerys very much, but it was a characteristic to respect.

“As my adviser liked to remind me, now more than ever.” -she shot Tyrion a sharp glance when he looked as if he wanted to speak, and he also shut his mouth. “I am barren, unable to conceive a child.” She looked outside for a long moment, with mournfulness in her eyes, thinking about a family that wasn’t meant to be. She still held on to Sansa, long fingers twisting in the rough material of the traveling cloak. While the afternoon sun shone into her face, Sansa watched the back of her head and thought that in another life they all could have been happy. Maybe. “Regardless of how I feel about you, Jon Snow, you are my kin.” She faced the room again, no trace of sadness on her features. “You are my only chance for a legitimate heir and if you don’t want the realm to fall into war again after my death, you will do as I tell you.”

Jon deflated even more and his gaze dropped to his boots.

“Sansa, do you want to marry my nephew?”, the Queen’s voice was light, but she didn’t face her, she was still focusing on Jon. There was hot anger in her belly again. Sansa felt it crawl under her skin, as she kept her attention on the point of physical contact with the Queen. This was not about her; it was about making Jon uncomfortable.

Jon on the other hand seemed to even grow smaller, as if he wanted to take as little space in the capital as possible. Looking at him like that made Sansa almost drown in understanding and sympathy. It wasn’t quite the same situation, sure, but didn’t she know enough about despising this place?

“My Queen”, Varys’ soft voice cut through the heavy silence that dropped on them. “Maybe it’s a little insensitive to-“ Daenerys faced him in a fluid motion. Her red dress flowing like blood out of a stabbed heart. Her hand dropped off of Sansa and her pretty face was crunched up in cold anger. But before she could say something to put her master of spies to his place, Sansa took her hand into her own.

“I don’t want to marry anyone anymore, your Grace.”, the sad smile on the Stark girl’s features was not an act; it was reflected in her melancholic blue eyes. “As everyone in this room knows well enough, I was sold from man to man, to marry, to be raped.” She paused and smiled weakly at Tyrion who looked at her still full of pity, like she was still the little bird he took as wife. “And even though some of them were rather gallant and gracious about it, I hoped to stay unmarried in the lap of my family and loved ones.”

“But your Grace is right, I have to marry, and it is the most favorable solution for everyone. I am the Lady of Winterfell, as your Grace granted me to be even though I am not a man and Winterfell needs heirs.” She dragged her thumb over Daenerys’ soft skin. It was hot.

“So does the throne. And well, my-“, she swallowed the word brother. “My cousin voiced his desire to stay in the North with us. He is his mother’s son I’m afraid. Well, a marriage would make sure he can.”

Sansa took a deep breath. Gods, she hoped she won’t choke on her lies someday. She looked over at Arya for a moment. Her sister was as silent and seemingly unbothered as she asked her to be on the boat. And Sansa was so incredibly grateful to have her sister by her side for this. To not be alone with a dragon and Jon. Especially since she could barely look the latter in the eye.

“I’m sure the Northern Lords want me to marry one of their sons, but since Jon is our father’s blood in all but name and since it is our new Queen’s wish that I marry him, I am utmost sure they will be reasonable.”

She looked Daenerys in the eyes, still holding on to her hot hand.

“I don’t want to marry anyone anymore, your Grace.”, she repeated, facing the whole room again. “But if I had to choose anyone, I would choose Jon.”

At that Jon’s head snapped up, looking at her in utter disbelief. The low afternoon soon caught his eyes and… How could Sansa ever think they were just grey? Jon looked at her with round puppy dog eyes as if he could not believe that she still had faith in him. And that hurt her in her core. Because how could this idiot ever believe she thought him to be a monster? Just because of his father? She knew him all her life and no matter how mean she used to be, he was always polite and gentle.

Jon’s eyes shone a deep purple, a stark contrast to Daenerys’ violet ones, but so unmistakable Targaryen. How could their father have fooled them all for so long, when it was all there in plain sight? When did it all make so much sense?

“I know that Jon will never hurt me.”, Sansa whispered. “I know that he will respect my wishes and would never expect me to love him, when I’m not even sure if I could ever fall in love again.” She smiled at him. Lips stretching over her cheeks, red and honest. “I don’t know if I can love Jon as a husband or if he could ever love me as a wife, but I know he will always be my family and I hope-“

She took a deep breath again. It came out in a stuttering sigh. Hopefully something the others would take as the way the subject took toll on her.

_Lies, lies, lies, lies._

“I know he feels the same.”

Sansa looked into Daenerys beautiful face again. She was _beautiful_ after all. In this moment Sansa thought about how easy it must be to fall in love with this stunning, powerful, magical woman. And she thought with some kind of regret what a gentle and soft girl she probably used to be before politics, loss and power made her as hard and cold as stone.

Fire was beautiful and powerful too and just as her new dragon Queen, fire would burn Sansa if she wasn’t careful enough.

“So, to answer your question, your Grace. I will marry Jon, even though I would love to be left alone. But not only because it was your wish but because I understand the logic behind it and I do agree with your Grace. I am thankful that you took my past pain into consideration before making this decision.”

With a weird sense of accomplishment, she saw how pleased the Queen seemed with her answer. Sansa released a low breath she wasn’t aware she was holding in. She did it. Daenerys believed she was only willing to marry Jon out of duty.

Sansa wasn’t a naïve little bird anymore. She knew that the Queen set their marriage up to torture Jon. There would have been no problem if Sansa would have married a Northern noble and Jon a southern Lady to give Daenerys a Targaryen heir. But Danny knew out of firsthand how uncomfortable Jon was with the incestuous legacy of their family and even though Sansa was not his sister, not by blood anyway. They have known each other as sibling their whole lives. And especially the Lords in the North and the Riverlands whispered about the newly revealed Targaryen prince.

Here they were now: To be trapped in a loveless marriage between brother and sister. All because Jon couldn’t bring himself to love his aunt and Queen. Gods, Sansa was pretty sure Daenerys didn’t even love him back. Maybe she was just mad that her fantasy to restore her family’s might with her last known relative did fall to pieces because the fact that she couldn’t have children didn’t magically disappear, just because it was convenient for her happiness.

Magic came with a price in their world. Daenerys did sacrifice so much to hatch her dragons, only to have one of them left when she finally reached her goal. And as horrifying Drogon still looked and was, the idea to have a dragon that could not spit fire was highly ironic to her.

But if Daenerys ever learned that Sansa- That Sansa thought she was _in love_ with Jon, the consequences were beyond her imagination. (Just because Drogon could not burn her alive anymore, didn’t mean he couldn’t kill her in equally horrifying ways)

“I knew that at least you would see reason.”, the Queen shot Jon a disdainful look, who still hadn’t argued again. Maybe he saw that there was no way to win this argument? ~~Maybe he saw that they both could never be happy?~~ Maybe he had just given up.

Jon locked eyes with their Queen again. He still didn’t seem to be comfortable with any of it. It made Sansa’s heart bleed. If she was a less selfish person, she would fight to not let this happen. If she was less selfish, she would let him go and be happy, but she kept her mouth shut, when Jon spoke again. Her pretty lips pressed together.

“If that’s what my Queen commands, I will marry Sansa.”, his voice was rough and low. The Queen beamed and put her attention on Lady Stark again, as if Jon’s agreement was only a performance and didn’t mean anything. (Maybe it didn’t)

With her fair skin and long fingers Daenerys took Sansa’s face into her hands, looked at her with her stunning face and violet eyes and terrifying dragon crown. The touch was hot on her cold skin. “I’m so glad we can be family now, Sansa. You are so important to me.”

All Sansa could do was smile; smile and try not to burn.

The wedding day came both way too soon for Sansa’s liking and not fast enough at all.

It did take a lot to convince the North, funnily enough not because of Jon and his true heritage. Granted there were still older Northerners who believed the charming prince seduced their young Lady against her will all those years ago, but they knew Jon, knew how good he and Sansa could work together. They had proven it often enough. And since they were not really siblings but rather cousins, there was no disagreement there too, at least had they two made the decision on their own. They also trusted Jon to be honorable and treat their beloved Lady right.

Sure, they rather would have seen one of their sons with their Lady but Jon was a Stark in all but name and with a marriage to his cousin he would not only be a true Stark but also protect and honor Sansa.

(Arya told Sansa about it. The whispers in the streets and in the castles alike. Young maidens and ladies who giggled about the second coming of Eddard Stark and Catelyn Tully and that their Lady and her husband would fall in love in their arranged marriage just like her parents did before them. That Sansa Starks life was finally the fairy tale she always dreamed of.)

(It hurt something deep inside Sansa that that would never be the case.)

Sansa felt both a bit prideful that Jon was still so trusted by the Northern Lords and really touched that all her people cared so much about her to want her to find love and a good man. A part of her felt foolish again about how urgently she wanted to leave this place as a girl when all those who loved her have always been here. That didn’t cancel out the problem though: It was not their wish to marry.

It was the Queen's demand.

A Queen that came with the intention to conquer the throne.

A dragon Queen, that had no qualms about using fire and blood to get what she wanted.

A demand that was probably suggested by her Lannister hand.

Sansa sushed them though, reminded them how important a good relationship with the throne was, reminded them that Jon was able to stay in the North with them, reminded them that the Queen could have someone else chosen to marry Sansa without asking for consent, reminded them, that like this; a Stark in all but name would rule the Seven Kingdoms. Her son, Eddard Stark’s grandson, would rule them all.

While she managed to shut down any more protest, run a castle and plan a wedding in the middle of winter, Jon was ignoring her.

On the fateful day she got ready. Only Arya and Brienne stood outside her chamber to guard it while Lady Alys Karstark and Lady Lyanna Mormont helped her get into her dress, with only one maid tending to Sansa’s hair.

It was a pretty dress. Sansa made it herself, mostly to have a task to do by herself on nice evenings spent with Arya and Bran in front of the fire. Jon would join them occasionally since he came back from the Wall, where he had disappeared off to, almost immediately after they left Kings Landing. If she was honest with herself, Sansa had to admit that there were nights when she thought he won’t come back for her.

When Jon would join them in her newly build study in front of the fire, the mood would change drastically. Like while even Bran tried to retain some of his humanity for his sisters’ sake, sharing stories about the past and their parents, happy memories, Jon would just sit of to the corner brooding.

Sometimes he would stare at the door leading to Sansa’s bedchamber and probably think about his bedchamber that was connected by a door only the two of them would have the key to. Those things were becoming practice in the North, where the people would let their Lords and Ladies have a little bit of privacy. While in the Red Keep and a lot of other castles, the husband had to walk the corridors to reach his wife’s chambers and every last person knew if they haven’t laid with each other in quiet some time.

When Jon was looking at her, his eyes were full of sadness, a kind of pity she could not put into words. He would catch sight of the fabric in her lap and avert his gaze instantly. Sansa knew that Jon didn’t wanted to marry her but watching him behave like this, made it hurt even more. All she wanted was her family to be happy. Why else would she let Arya and Bran go?

Arya did actually get married to Gendry a few moons ago. It was a spur of the moment decision form both of them. Gendry just rejected Daenerys’s offer to be legitimized and be given Storms End if he swore fealty to her and drop the claim to the throne he would gain. Sansa personally thought it to be a bad political move to legitimize the last King’s bastard instead of giving the position to a lesser House that would than owe the Crown and the Targaryen but it didn’t matter anyhow.

The two of them would be going off to sail west of Westeros to try to find new lands together. Arya’s logic was that if she was already married to Gendry and the marriage was consummated then there was no chance for the Queen to try to arrange a marriage for her. Granted it would have been easier if Gendry was legitimized and they would be Lord and Lady Baratheon but neither of them wanted to rule a castle and be subject to the moods of the capital. Arya wanted to be free with the man she loved. The marriage was just a means to an end. To be freed from the responsibilities of a noble Lady. It was a short affair in the Godswood in the dead of the night with the Starklings, Brienne, Podrick, the Hound, Hot Pie and Gilly present while Sam officiated the ceremony for them and Sansa gave her little sister away. (Political consequences be damned. If only one of them two could be happily married, she won’t be thinking about the Crown's approval and she trusted Gendry.) Afterwards there was ale and chicken in the small hall in front of the fire. Everyone was clapping and hollering after the couple when they left together for the night. It was light and nice.

The complete opposite of Jon and Sansa’s marriage she was afraid. The keep was filled to the brim with guests and the Queen did not arrive yet. (Daenerys insisted that she could not insult the North and its people by being part of the ceremony but there were not many other qualified candidates (She was the only living kin of the groom after all))

Sansa looked at herself in the mirror. The dress was tailored out of white and silver-grey fabric that flowed in nice waves that pooled at her feet. The collar was high and embroidered with silvery thread, depicting star. The same silver painted six dire wolves that ran over the dress: Greywind, Ghost, Lady, Nymeria, Summer and Shaggy Dog. They danced with every move she made. Her sleeves were white and long. Her hair was braided in the Northern style that her mother liked to wear. There was no jewelry, no creams to paint her face with. Just Sansa and her dress.

“You look beautiful Sansa.”, Alys smiled at her, but Lyanna rolled her eyes “She would be pretty wearing a sack. Are you sure you want to do this, my Queen?” Sansa suppressed a sigh: “You know that you should not call me that. And yes, it is my duty.” Lyanna didn’t seem convinced. When it was going like she wanted, the North would be independent and Sansa would be their Queen, but that was not how the world worked.

Outside there was a knock. Arya escorted the Queen in, and Sansa put a shy smile in place. She prayed to the old gods and the new that Daenerys hadn’t heard the little bear. “Sansa.”, the beaming smile on the Dragon Queen's face almost convinced her. Hot fingers wrapped around cold hands. “You look enchanting! I’m almost tempted to marry you myself.”, she cooed. Out of the corner of her eye Sansa saw how her sister rolled her eyes violently. How careless. “Your Grace, you should not say things like these. It makes me so embarrassed on my wedding day.”, there was a slight smirk on her lips. “Even if I take you up on it. What should we tell Jon.” Laughing Daenerys, snapped and one of her handmaiden brought in a delicate looking box, spotting a creamy peach color.

Sansa’s heart stuttered to an unexpected stop. That was clearly a jewelry box and whatever was in there could ruin her dress, ruin the first time that she could choose what do wear and how to appear on her wedding day. But she also could not say no to the Queen.

With trembling hands, she opened it. The material was silky under her fingertips. And she would have gasped, if she was younger. It was a gorgeous dire wolf head craved from sleek ivory on a thin silver chain. “What do you say, my Lady?”, the excitement shining in Daenerys violet eyes was contagious. “Your Grace-“, Sansa was mulling over what to say exactly, trying to stay cautious, but she was interrupted: “Call me Dany, please. You are about to become part of my family.” Sansa could not help but to turn softer: “Thank you, Dany.”

Hot skin Graced her sensitive neck, as the Queen put the neckless in place.

Sansa was so, so close to the flame.

Bran and Arya walked her to the heart tree. And today more than in years she wished her father was still there. That he was the one trying to make her smile on the way to the crowd, that he would reassure and caress her hair and put her pretty maiden cloak over her shoulders.

“Who comes before the Old Gods this night?"

Daenerys’ voice cut through the silence. Sansa saw Tyrion in the first row, next to his new wife Quenra Baneford. The daughter of a loyal Bannerman of his father. She also spotted Sweetrobin glaring open at her. When she was honest, none of the Northmen looked happy either. Before she trained her gaze forward, she caught Gilly’s eyes, smiling at her encouragingly and Sansa was grateful.

Before her under the weirwood, Daenerys stood, in a muted dark red dress, her hair glittering ghostly in the low torchlight.

"Sansa, of the House Stark, comes here to be wed. A woman grown and flowered, trueborn and noble. She comes to beg the blessing of the Gods.”, Arya’s voice was clear and loud in the dead of the night. Looking at the heart tree’s grotesque face, Sansa prayed to be blessed indeed, for this would hopefully be her last marriage.

“Who comes to claim her?"

For the first time on this day Sansa gets to see Jon, who was the ghost of the Lord Commander he once was, tonight, all in black, Longclaw on his hip, but he would not look at her. He watched the dark, star spangled sky, but as his Queen addressed him, he moved, like a stature coming to life.

“Jon Snow.”, Sansa stopped observing the snowfall and caught the dragon Queen's displeased face at her nephews use of his bastard name. There was a low but clear murmur going through the crowed and for the first time in what felt like weeks Jon was looking at her, really _looking at her_. A thin smile was playing on his lips, warm light reflecting in his beautiful grey eyes. Sansa couldn’t help the butterflies fluttering low in her gut at the sight.

“Jon Snow.”, he repeated, “Of House Targaryen, Kin of our Queen, Son of Lyanna Stark and ward of Lord Eddard Stark.”

“Who gives her away?”

Sansa felt tears filling her eyes. She knew that the North would be pleased with this clear declaration of loyalty. It was as if no one heard the name Targaryen and Jon was still their King. But for the Starks it was a different story entirely. Jon was still their family. His parentage didn’t change the brooding boy they shared their childhood with. Even Bran’s voice seemed to reflect a smile as he spoke next:

“Arya and Brandon of House Stark, her sister and brother.”

“Lady Sansa.”, Daenerys was smiling in her direction again and a part of Sansa wanted to believe it was real. “Will you take this man?”

Sansa knew everyone was watching her. If she wanted to change anything than now was the last time. The Queen could not force her to say the words. That was against the law. Her uncle the Blackfish once refused a wedding. But she had to get married eventually and the time for doubts passed months ago.

With a final stuttering breath, she opened her mouth: “I take this man.”

Jon took her hands into his and together they knelt in the snow. They closed their eyes, Sansa knew she was expected to pray and she did, but she only had one wish, that this will be somewhat favorable for both of them. She wasn’t expecting Jon to love her. She was well past the naïve hope of being in a loving relationship. She just hopped desperately they could both be happy. So, she sat there. Jon’s warm hands in hers, the soft leather of his gloves on her skin, the cold snow licking at her knees and she hoped.

After what felt an eternity they got up and Arya took her grey cloak. There had been a long debate about Jon’s cloak design since he was technically marring into her House. In the end they decided on a black, red and grey one without any sigil. When he put it around her with careful fingers, she was grateful for the warmth. And after he carefully nestled her hair from under it, a silly part of her wanted him to kiss her. He looked at her like _that,_ she thought for a fleeting moment, like he wanted to. It was not required as part of the ceremony but some couples would and when he cupped her face with his warm hands, her heart stopped only to be disappointed, as he placed a soft kiss on her head.

It was surely better that way.

The feast was a joyous occasion. There was laughter and songs echoing in the old hall, young men and woman dancing. Sansa even had a dance with Theon who had come with his sister since he didn’t want to let that chance go to see them all. And Yara still needed to get married as Lady of the Iron Islands. As her friend was swirling her around the room while he was swinging to the song badly, Sansa felt her _husband’s_ eyes on her. With a frown she was reminded of what had to come: Their wedding night. Even though it made her skin crawl, Sansa was dead set on going through with it and lying with Jon tonight. The only reason for their union was to produce heirs, so why wait? The faster they had children; the faster Sansa would never have to endure a man’s touch again.

No one expected a bedding ceremony. The Queen even forbade it, taking Sansa’s past in account. (Earning the respect of not a few Lords and first and foremost Ladies of the realm) So, it was only her and Jon who made their way down to her bed chambers, with Brienne following in discrete distance.

For a moment they just stood there awkwardly. Sighing, Sansa unclasped the buttons on her collar and fought with the lacing on the back of it. Jon shot her a weird look but before he could say anything, she yanked at it once hard and the fabric opened enough for her to peel out of it, standing in front of Jon in nothing but her small clothes and heavy boots.

Jon’s jaw snapped shut at the sight of her bare and scared legs. Surly he felt repelled by her broken body. But Sansa was not trying to think about that as she sat down on her bed unlacing her boots too. She was a woman with a mission.

Her bare feet hit the ground as she walked over to Jon again, eager to remove his cloak and satisfied as she could brush her hands over his broad shoulders as it fell to the floor. She imagined that he sucked in a sharp breath at her touch, but it probably was just make-believe.

There was no way to slow down now, so she grabbed his shirt and tugged him over to the bed, as he made no impression of acting on his own account any time soon.

Another stuttering breath left her lungs, as Sansa tried to prepare for what was about to come. She looked at his handsome face, his plump looking lips. She imagined what they might taste like. If they were as soft as they looked? Closing her eyes for another short moment, she moved in front of Jon again, putting her fingers on his chest. It was warm and solid under her skin. She took his hand in hers and put it on her thigh just below her ass. Sighing at the warmth of his skin on hers, she bit her lower lip. A part of her really wanted this, wanted him to never let her go, but her mind screamed at her that she wasn’t ready.

Jon looked at Sansa like this, barely wearing anything, pressed against him his hand on her soft skin on such an indecent place. And his shocked-up brain had difficulty to catch up with the situation. Because when he had taken her arm into his and escorted her to her chambers, he had planned on either share the bed with her (without anything happening of course) or he would have left her entirely. Either way he was not prepared for her to undress and make a move on him.

Gods, he was touching her butt.

He was sure he never moved so fast in his life as now when he removed his hand from the point of contact. “Sansa...”, his voice was way too rough for his liking. (Gods, why him?) “Sansa, stop.”

She had looked up at him, blue eyes hidden behind her long lashes, but now her face fell, and she sat on the edge of the bed. “I understand that you don’t _want_ me after...” Another shaking breath, a beautifully sad smile. “After what _he_ did to me.” Jon was left horrified. The terrible, _terrible_ truth was that he wanted her. _Bad._ Sansa never made any indication that she saw him as anything else, than the brother she was never close with. And even thought they were not siblings, it didn’t ease the guilt in the slightest.

_He was awful._

_Awful._

_Awful._

“You are _beautiful_ \- I mean- That’s _not_ the point- I-”, he stopped and sucked in air and “ I don’t want to hurt you.”

“Oh Jon!”, soft smile, soft eyes, soft lips. “We have to do it. That’s the only reason for marriages. Heirs. And-” he tried and failed to not look at her mouth as she wet her lips. “I know that you don’t love me.”, she paused, and he wanted to confess to her right here.

_He loved her._

_He loved her._

_He loved her._

“Well, you _do_ but you don’t _love me like this,_ and you might not be comfortable...” she gestured to herself and the bed “with _this_ but we have to produce children eventually. So, why prolong the inevitable?”

She was right, he knew. Sansa got up again, putting her hand on his neck. “I know you won’t hurt me.” Jon sucked in another breath. It was as if he didn’t get any air at all. Her light touch left him with gooseflesh, and he realized that no one has really touched him since his relationship with Dany and gods he felt that now. “Are you sure?”, he felt like Lady Catelyn Starks ghost might burst into the room to beat him to death for even considering this. And in all fairness: He would have been alright with it.

“Yes, I am sure.”, she murmured and pressed her body against him. “I want this.” This sentence whispered against his skin, were too much for his sanity. It was too soft, it was too close, it was too close to ‘I want you.’ He was weak.

So, he let her untie his trousers and let her filigree fingers grab his manhood, stroking him clumsily. Gods, he was already way more affected than he cared to admit. And she wouldn’t stop looking at him. Pretty blue eyes watching his every reaction. After what felt like a little eternity she let go and he almost whimpered at the loss of contact and warmth, but he bit his lips before he could embarrass himself any further. Only partly conscious there, Jon watched as Sansa climb into bed. She laid herself down on her back, her hair fanning on the soft linen, her legs and arms bare and the rest of her body hardly hidden in her small clothes. But her face was turned away from him, pointedly not looking at him. “Do what you have to do.” He felt a sudden surge of guilt over his arousal. “Sansa.”, he said softly. “I won’t do this if you don’t want it.” She sighed, loud, annoyed. “You are my _husband_. This is your right and our duty.”

“I won’t do shit if you’re not comfortable!” She probed herself up angrily. “I was already uncomfortable touching you there.” “San-“ “It. Is. _Fine_. Jon.”, she interrupted him. “Do it, please.”, the last part was quiet as she fell back into the cushions. He hated himself. This was wrong but he didn’t have many options left. And not helpful despite his guilt and horror he was evidently still hard.

“I can make it good for you too.”, Jon murmured against her thighs as he settled on the bed, kissing her there as to proof his words. “No.”, her voice shaking, barely audible, “I don’t know if I-“ A pause. “No.”

“Alright.”, he took a moment, praying that this wasn’t a mistake. Then he entered her slow and carefully, and that’s how he penetrated her for a while, gently, slow and with her comfort in mind. He finished eventually anyway, because though the guilt was there like a scorching fire in his stomach and his heart, the sensation was too much.

And his fantasy: Sansa who might give him a chance to please. Sansa with dark eyes and labored breathing. Sansa squirming underneath him, bucking her hips, moaning his name-

He was done and strained and to his horror he found Sansa shedding silent tears.

Sansa could not help the tears. Logically she knew that this was Jon, _her Jon_ , not Ramsey. She had thought, really thought it would be alright because it was _Jon_. But all the situation gave her excess to bad memories, was it too familiar still. She drowned in all of it and gods, she- she had been silly.

_Silly._

_Silly._

_Silly._

He looked at her, she knew, and he probably felt bad too. Gods, he would never touch her again. Wasn’t it what she-

A careful hand brushed her hair out of her face, accompanied by small words: “I’m sorry, Sansa.” This should have been nice, comforting, she knew. She knew. But it was all too much. He was way too nice, too tender, too soft, too forgiving and she just couldn’t take it.

“Please, go.”, The words were out, left her mouth, muffled, low, pathetic, before she could think, could change her mind, she heard the door and then after a while of suffocating silence she heard it creak open again but not close. Low toddling steps were to be heard and then the door closed again. Ghost jumped in her bed, licking the salt of her face and she hugged the wolf tight, as gratefulness washed over her and she wept into his soft fur until she fell asleep.

A few weeks after that Sansa oversaw the preparation for Jon, Bran and her were to leave for the Wall. Well, Jon and she were leaving for the Wall, Bran was leaving for beyond it. To resume his place as three-eyed-crow, he said.

There were footprints and she reached a hand for the dagger she kept hidden in her furs, her body tense but it was just Arya, who raised an eyebrow and her. “I didn’t give you the dagger and showed you to use it, just for you the get even more paranoid.” Sansa relieved a breath: “It has been a lot lately and you know that.” Arya rolled her dark eyes: “Yes, I know. But did you know how tiresome it is that both you and Jon are complaining to me all the time? I have to hear about the same fight from both of you and-“

“Well, if he wasn’t so stubborn and would just recognize my position and let me go! Because-“, the words squeezed themselves past her pressed lips, low and angry, but Arya just threw her hands up in frustration. “Yes, I fucking know- Listen, he told me that he only worries about you and to be honest I don’t think anyone cares which one of you goes up there as long _someone_ does.” She fixed on her sisters face: “And he is right you know; you can barely defend yourself- Don’t interrupt me! You are better with the blade but not good yet.”

Sansa scoffed but she knew Arya was right, but still she argued for argument’s sake. Call it an old habit. “That’s why when you will stay here, there will be no problem. As there will be a Stark in Winterfell.” “Yes, but only because we already stayed way longer than we planned to, because your blacksmith fell ill and Gendry wouldn’t-“, she looked around for a moment, “wouldn’t let his _Lady sister_ alone with a half broken castle and no smith. And well, just for my peace and quiet I agreed to do this, so your dumb donkeys would calm down a bit.”

“Arya!” Sansa looked at her with big eyes. “What? Jon has no close friends here except for Davos since Sam did go back to Horn Hill and Tormund didn’t leave the Wall, not even for the wedding, anyway.” Biting her lips she continued quieter: “Believe me there are things I rather would have heard about than my sister and my brother having sex-“ “What?“, Sansa could not keep her voice down and a few man looked over to the ladies. Pushing away a few stray strands of hair she shuffled closer to Arya, practically hissed at her: “He told you what happened?”

Sansa couldn’t believe Jon would do that. “I mean, not in detail!” and then under her breath “Thank the gods for small mercies.” Sighing, she locked eyes with her sister and continued: “He only told me that you were very persistent and would not look at him and well, cried afterwards…”

She knew that this was her sister, her blood, but Sansa could not help the shame rising to her cheeks. Not only did Jon talk with Arya about their wedding night; he also shared something so humiliating about her. He- “Besides that thinking about it is, is _fucking disgusting_ , Jon doesn’t want to hurt you. And he feels so guilty he might just stay out sulking ‘til the frost takes him, but he wants you to know that he didn’t want to hurt you, that he would have dealt with, gods- I can’t believe I’m- his _boner_ himself if he would have known how fragile you still are-“

“Are you implying that you two think me weak, that I can’t fulfill my duties-“

Arya seemed even more frustrated as a few moments ago, when she had to talk about her brothers dick: “I can’t imagine what you were going through and I can’t feel how you feel now, after, but Sansa you need to take care of yourself. If you can’t have sex yet, then don’t and if you can’t ever than he will never touch you again-“

“But we have to”, Sansa didn’t like talking about this, didn’t like how her voice shook. “We have to have heirs, for Winterfell, for the Throne…”

“Sansa.”, Arya’s voice was awfully soft. Sansa could not bear it, her little sister’s pity. “Fuck the Queen.”, the shorter girl growled, dark, like the wolf she was. Sansa pinched her nose:” Even if I could afford that… Our home…”, her voice broke “Without an heir we can’t hold Winterfell.” Arya put a gentle hand to her copper hair. “You still have me. I don’t _plan_ on having children, but if I had some this would not be an issue for you.” Hot tears filled Sansa’s eyes. “Arya.”, she whispered, “You would do this to me?” “Of course.”, there was no hesitation. “You are not alone in this. We are all here for you. Besides, what will Daenerys do? Marry Jon to someone else when you don’t have children? The marriage was consummated, what can she do?” “Arya!” She was scandalized: “That might be true but there was no bedding ceremony, no definite proof.”

Arya shrugged: “I’ll lie for you guys. What will she do? Accuse me of lying, when she doesn’t have proof either? But Sansa…”, Arya hugged her tightly. “If you carry on with this bullshit, promise me to make your first child heir to Winterfell. _Us first. Her second_.” Sansa squeezed her shoulders after they separated: “Us first.”, she repeated.

Arya turned to go, believing the conversation over, but Sansa held her back, discomfort written all over her face. “Arya, wait.”, she coughed awkwardly, “You told me that Jon said, well, that he would have disposed of his _condition_ differently the other night…” Arya watched Sansa like an owl, blinking.

She blinked again.

“By the _gods_ , Sansa!”, her face looked as red as Sansa’s seemed to burn. “Why would you want to talk about this?” “I don’t know, Arya? Should I just go up to Jon and ask him if he thinks me attractive?”, the words fell from her lips before she had time to banish them. “By everything holy…”, Arya rubbed her face and avoided eye contact. “Alright listen: I never said this, and you will never talk about your marriage to Jon with me again. _Ever_.” Sansa nodded, curious. “It slipped and he looked positively horrified after, but he basically said that you are desirable.”

Blue eyes got wide and her skin was a beautiful cherry contrasted to them. She swallowed hard and her brain raced but no coherent thought was building. “He- _What?_ ”, she stuttered. “No.”, Arya’s answer was immediate, “Conversation over. I will see you when you are back.”

“Arya. Wait.”

But it was pointless.

The ride up to the Wall was long and relative eventless.

Sansa wasn’t sure how to feel about the Wall towering over her, as they arrived at Castle Black. Here she saw Jon again, the only member of her family left at the time. It was the first time she was happy to see him, the first time she embraced him. And she would not admit it to herself at the time but the first time she noticed the little flutter in her heart, that would grow so painfully.

They were welcomed by the black brothers with warm hugs and kind words. Ed seemed surprised as Sansa embraced him too.

And Tormund just tackled Jon swirling with his friend in his arms to the howler and laughter of black brothers and wildlings alike. Some of the latter settled in the abandoned villages not far from the Wall, swearing fealty to their new Queen and Lady, some would join the Watch abandoning their old ways and a small group that promised to accompany Bran planned to go back to their old life, now at peace with the South.

Jon was so happy in the company of his friends, Sansa couldn’t help but smile. Tormund’s easy glee was warm and contagious. He came to hug her next, drowning the small form of the girl with his massive body. “It is the little crow’s pretty sister wife.”, he called, fixing the new unmistakable southron members of the Watch. “She is a clever and a fiesty one, this birdy. None of you stick figures want her to be angry with you. You might not survive her wrath.” His smile was sharp but it grew into a shit eating grin when he focused on Sansa again.

“I am only here to fulfill my duties as Lady of Winterfell, by assessing the damage to the Wall and seeing to help you with repairs once I will be back home. There is no need to fear me, my Lords.”, but she shook her head chuckling.

That was how Sansa spent her time on the Wall swarmed by young men eager to impress their new Lady, while Jon watched gloomily.

On the second day, Tormund and Edd could not take his sour mood any more and joined him while he drank ale and watched Sansa being questioned about her progress with rebuilding Winterfell and if she already had seen the Wall.

Tormund hit a distracted Jon gently on the head. “Would you stop being so openly jealous when she is already your woman.”, he simply said, pouring himself a cup. “I am not jealous. And she may be my wife, but she is not mine…” He ended the sentence with a poisonous glare in the direction of an unimpressed wildling. Jon said those things because they were true. He may be in love with Sansa but his feelings were obviously not welcome with the girl that just wanted safety for her loved ones and herself. “She is my- These sleekey orcs are looking at my- _my little sister_ like that and…” Another unfinished sentence and a lot of lies. Because he was jealous and he loved her and he hadn’t thought about her as his sister in months.

“Jon.”, Edd fixed him over the rim of his own ale. The scrankly boy Jon once knew was all authority now; delirious Edd had grown to be Lord Commander Eddison Tollett. His friends words were low and well chosen: “We noticed that you-“ and not heard because Tormund interrupted: “Of course you are in love with her. I’ve seen you with Ygritte, little crow. You seem to have a liking for redheads that can tell you what to do.” Jon was hot with shame about how accurate this statement was and his large friend just grinned at him: “Unbelievable you never fancied me, little Lordling. I could show you-“ Edd hit him with his empty cup while he rolled his eyes but there was amusement shining in his eyes. “Jon is a _married man_ , Tormund. You had your chance-“, that was as far as he made it before dissolving into uncontrollable laughter at the large man batting his lashes like a young maiden.

Jon laughed with his companions, grateful for the lightness of the conversation.

“But seriously, Jon.”, Edd gave him a once over as if he was seeing him for the first time and didn’t know him for what felt now like half a lifetime. “Were you attracted to Ygritte because you were already attracted to Sansa or do you think you are in love with Sansa because she reminds you of Ygritte since you reunited?”

Jon stayed silent. He didn’t know. He was not sure if he wanted to know. He opened his mouth to deny his feelings, to lie, but he looked at his friends, two men whom he would trust with his life, and knew that they already knew the bitter truth.

So, he pressed his lips together and was ready to die here in this miserable moment because all he wanted was to be a bastard again and sit here with his brothers as one of them, fussing over food resources and Wall repairs and training of all the new boys that came North… But he was a prince now married to a Lady that did not love or desire him, with the pressing duty to put a babe in her belly.

Rubbing his face he watched Sansa leave with those eager younglings and it was not only the alcohol burning his inside as he saw her laugh with them, light and pretty and absolutely enchanting.

“Jon, stop looking after your wife like a fool.”, Tormund poured him another cup. “The important question is, if you started your princely duty to put your seed in your pretty-“, his tone was testing on purpose, they all knew. He tried to get a raise out of Jon so he would just admit his Love. But for Jon there was nothing but rage burning in his intestine boiling his blood. (Gods, he was a dragon with a bad temper after all, was he?) “She-“

The door flung open. It was one of the boys that took Sansa outside. “My Lord!”, he called but he only shivered over Jon’s rage mad eyes.

A Targaryen prince.

“Your Lady wife collapsed on the way- She seemed to be fine and is with the Maester now but-“, the words were falling out of his mouth, threatening to trip over one another. “But what?”, his voice was low and threatening, a growl. (A wolf? A dragon? A beast.) “It is not my place to tell M’Lord. Please talk to the Maester, I am sure he will-“

Jon rose. The warmth of anger and alcohol drained away and left the cold unforgiving ice of fear in his veins. Sansa might be hurt and this boy would not tell him what was wrong. Bran left, Arya would leave, Sansa was the only part of their family that would stay here with him and she might be in danger- He needed to know… Needed to do something.

He could not lose her.

Not her.

“Tell me.”, he growled again. “But my Lord-“ “ _Tell me!_ ” Jon did not recognize his own voice as he yelled at this lad who in no way deserved it but he had no mind to think about him being irrational and cruel. He had to make sure she was alright-

Edd and Tormund held him in place as if he would attack his opposite. (Would he?) As the door opened again, reveling a pretty, tanned boy not older than six, with hazel hair and light eyes. “Congratulations, my Lord.”, he shouted over the men. “Your Lady wife is with child.”

Jon stopped dead in his tracks, his breaths left his lungs hard and almost panicky.

Sansa was _pregnant_.

Sansa was pregnant with _his_ _child_.

He was to be a father.

The _love of his life_ would have _his child_.

Moons later Jon was pacing outside of Sansa’s chambers, listening to her pained screams and feeling sick to his stomach with guilt and fear.

The babe was early. Wasn’t it full six months ago that Maester Tybalt estimated Sansa to be in the seventh week of her pregnancy? Jon hasn’t really talked with her about _the obvious_ that grew steadily within her belly - the physical proof of their disastrous wedding night.

Like the coward he was, when it came to his emotions, he spent most of his time hiding behind the repairs on the Wall, but Edd and his men didn’t need him anymore and with his excuse gone he had to listen to the dangerous ordeal that was childbirth from the other side of the door.

Because she didn’t want him inside.

The time was flying so much with him being away, that they didn’t even talk about names of their offspring (If the babe survived anyway.) (If Sansa survived anyway.) Jon would have liked to name a child after his father, his real father. The man that raised him. The rare occasions he thought about marrying and fathering children anyway. Not that he spent much time thinking about children’s names during his time at the Wall.

But he didn’t know what Sansa wanted. And there was this tiny detail that they owed a child, a Targaryen heir to Daenerys. He was sure that the Queen would not appreciate a Northern name for her successor. So, what should they do? Name the kid Aegon? Daenerys if it was a girl? Visenya? Gods, he should have just talked to Sansa, but he didn’t. Because he thought they had time and-

The door creaked open and Jon held his breath as a shy looking handmaiden ducked out of the door. “My Lord,”, she whispered, “The Lady wants you to come in now.” He wouldn’t let her wait. Well, he was so concerned with his panicking, he didn’t notice how the screams had stopped.

Sansa was lying there, wrapped in a sheet, looking exhausted and glittering with sweat. But there was an impossible bright smile on her lips. He had avoided touching her at all since their wedding night but there she was: Fine, alive, breathing and _happy_. In this moment there was only relief. Jon rushed over to her, brushed a light strand of hair out of her face and then without thinking planted a soft kiss on her forehead.

“Hello Jon.” , she sounded positively exhausted. But he was distracted from her (who knew that was in the realm of possibility?) by low squeaking in her arms and there he was: his son. A beautiful baby boy. He laughed breathlessly. “I want you to meet our son.”, Sansa’s voice was careful but there was joy; an unthinkable gratefulness. “Sansa…”, he didn’t like how roughly her name left his lips, laced with emotion he could not put into words. She did not comment on it, but pulled him closer, until he was sitting at her bedside. Then she put the babe into his arms. First Jon felt the surge of panic walling up in him again. How does one even hold a child so small? But it didn’t take long for him to ease a bit into it, especially when he was reminded that this was his child, Sansa’s child, their son.

He had a mob of fine dark hair, like him, like Eddard. But his eyes were a light blue. Jon knew now, that most babes around here have blue eyes when they are born. He saw it with Arya, who also had blue eyes as babe but after a while they turned grey, just like his and fathers.

Jon wished they would stay blue for his son, just like Sansa’s eyes.

He hugged his son, put a careful finger on his tiny hand. Gods, this right here, was it. He never thought he would have a family of his own and here he was, clutching a small human, that already looked so much like him.

“Jon.”, Sansa was sleepy now, but there was still an easy smile on her face and she fought her heavy eyelids to look at him. “What do you want to name him? We haven’t talked about it yet but, I guess, knowing you, that you want to name him after father.” He chuckled. Of course, she knew. Of course.

“But you don’t.” It was not a question. It was a statement. Stumbling over her words Sansa was eager to appease him. That of course she loved father and of course she- but Jon took her hand, inching his hand carefully, concerned about holding the babe secure. “Sansa, I know that you always wanted to name a daughter after your mother. I know that you loved her and that you two were close and-“, he swallowed. “I may have not had the best- _relationship_ with your mother but-“stopping again he felt her tightening her grip around his hand. He was so grateful. “Now that I’ve been in love.”, he than averted his gaze. “I can understand her, a bit at least. I would probably go insane with jealously too, if the person I loved came back home with someone else’s child. And insisted we raise them with our children. Don’t get me wrong: I am still sad and angry that she could not see past that with me, I was a _child_ , she was the _adult_. Why was she angry with me and not with father? Why-?”

“And still you would name our- _hypothetical_ \- daughter after her?”, Sansa took his face into his hands. He had to swallow again. The soft and intimate feeling of her skin on his. Gods, he would give her all the children in the world, if only to make her happy. All she ever wanted was a big, happy family.

“Yes, because she didn’t know, and she was only human after all. Besides you loved her, and she did all she ever could to protect _you_ , all of her children. I can respect that.” Nodding, Sansa caressed his jar and then let go of him. Her touch lingering like a ghost. “But-“ His heart ached. “Yes, I know. It is bad luck to name siblings after former lovers.”, he said and ignored that this wasn’t the way Targaryens saw things. “If we name a daughter after Catelyn, we can’t name this boy after father.”

“We don’t know if we will ever have a daughter. Besides one child is for Daenerys. So-“ “Are you saying we give him a Targaryen name? “ “No!”, Sansa composed herself. “I want him to be the heir to Winterfell. Arya advised me to put _us_ , our family first and I will listen to her. Besides there are still Lords who don’t trust her, the Queen. We could just tell her we wanted to appease to them. And besides- he has Stark features. Let’s tell her we hope our next child might look more like a Targaryen, a proper heir to her new dynasty. She is smart and will look through those excuses, but she might like the thought of a child with Targaryen features regardless. It’s a gamble…”

Nodding, Jon put the babe back into her arms, reluctantly so. “I get that. I’ll support you with that. But it still doesn’t solve the naming problem. It should be someone we both loved like father, someone-“ “Robb.”, Sansa interrupted him. “We should name him after Robb.” Smiling, Jon touched the boy’s little cheek. “Robb is a good idea. People loved him. They’d love the way we honor him.”, laughing he shook his head: “A Robb Stark with proper Stark looks.”

“He was your best friend and well-“, Jon shoved her a bit, playfully: “Your favorite brother?”

“Stop!”, she grinned, laughter dancing in her eyes. “I will never confirm that to be true.”, she pulled little Robb closer to her heart and leaned against Jon, the solid warmth of her body, being a comfort and a piece of happiness against all of his worries.

They were a real family now.  
  



	2. Rhaegar Targaryen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Daenerys was sitting on the Throne when they arrive, Drogon curled around the base of the cursed thing. She looked regal, their Queen all in black, with a heavy crown on her head. This was staged to remind them all who was ruling them, as if anyone needed a reminder after only two years. Jon and Sansa stood next to Edmure Tully, his very pregnant wife Roslin and their two children - little Edmure, now four, and his sister Lysa, who was barely two years of age. Both spotted the typical Tully looks. Her uncle wore a deep blue with silver accents and his wife wore a deep maroon dress; the children wore the same color scheme.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hallo!  
> At this point I want to thank my beta reader and ask all of you to follow my new writblr maybe? @hawkeyescoffeewrites

Sansa looked in on Robb for the second time this afternoon. It was almost time to go, she knew that. The thought of leaving behind her beloved son made her heart ache. What if something were to happen to him and she wasn’t there? She could not bear it.

But the Queen had sent for her and Jon,  _ both of them _ and it would not be wise to turn down the invite after they made little Robb heir to Winterfell and not the Throne. So, Sansa took a deep breath, kissed the two-month-old and bit down her sadness. She was to miss so many moments with her son. She knew from Rickon how fast babes changed in the first few months and she would miss so much of it because of the long journey south. But self-pity was no use.

As she moved out of the nursery, she met Brienne in the corridor. The knight had been a great friend to Sansa throughout her pregnancy and birth. She had listened to her Lady’s troubles and worries and had protected her whenever she could, leaving Sansa with the impression that she was not sleeping at all sometimes. 

“Are you sure, Milady?” Brienne’s voice was but a whisper to not disturb the babe, but the question was clear. 

“Yes, Brienne. I can sleep well on my journey, knowing that the most honorable Knight in the realm is looking after my son.”

“If you are quite sure, Milady.”, the words were nothing more than pure  obedience , but Sansa heard to pride in her friend’s words. And acting on a short impulse, she hugged the taller woman. She knew that the last months, almost two years, had been hard for her friend. Brienne was a respected knight, especially up here in the north and no one in the south would be caught muttering an ill word about the Knight in the Queen’s presence, since Daenerys had knighted her herself. But people talked, about the ugly lady Knight that had been in love with the Kingslayer and those were never kind words. Sansa knew that Selwyn had disowned her officially now that women could inherit lands. The official royal degree read that lords and ladies might still favor their sons over their older daughters, but the girls were to be given the titles if there was no other trueborn heir.

Knowing Daenerys, she probably preferred a law closer to Dornish inheritance rights, that the first born would get title and lands regardless of gender. So, the softer version of the law was probably Tyrion’s idea to ease the nobility into female reign. With the Throne, the North and the Iron Islands, three major regions (and the whole realm) were now ruled by women. A fact that probably didn’t sit right with the older lords, who clung to tradition. And Selwyn Tarth, who had only Brienne left, had apparently said publicly that he would rather have a smaller house taking over his territory, than have his daughter become Tarth’s Lady.

Sansa had enough late-night talks with Brienne to know that she didn’t want the duties of running a castle but to have her father shame her publicly like this still ought to hurt a lot.

Squeezing Brienne’s wide frame a last time, Sansa smiled at her with tired eyes. “Thank you, my friend.” Brienne looked taken aback for a moment, as Sansa’s moments of affection were rare and short-lived.

“You don’t have to thank me, Sansa,” she just murmured.

Sansa took her leave after that.

The ride south was long and for the most part uneventful.

She barely talked to Jon on the way and they only shared a bed for appearance’s sake. Jon would only address her as his “lady wife” when he was in a mood like that. (As if he had to remind himself that Sansa was his wife now) It was insufferable, the tension between them. He was mad at her and she at him. Well, she understood his reservations to have sex with her, she did, but there were no new arguments, no loophole not to have a second child.

They had tried roughly a month after she had given birth, but it was no use. Sansa could not focus on Jon or enjoy it for that matter and Jon refused to lie with her after the second attempt left her in tears again. Since than they barely talked about anything but their duties. The argument was tiresome, since they were going in circles.

How Sansa wished Arya were there to comfort her. Sure, her little sister would hate the situation because she didn’t want anything to do with their marriage, but she would bring much needed lightness into their gloomy relationship.

Looking up into the grey winter sky, Sansa prayed silently, for Arya’s safety and health. She had done so almost every morning in front of the heart tree since the Maester allowed her to be outside. Sansa knew that Jon was probably worried too, but they could not really exchange a friendly word like that. Sam and Gilly would also be in the keep with little Sam and Dickon. Maybe Sam would be able to mediate between them and find a solution both of them could agree on.

Sansa hated the thought that the question of Daenerys’ heir would be the thing that destroyed her relationship with Jon. She was pretty sure by now that she did love him and the way they were avoiding each other made her heart bleed. She needed Jon in her life as much as little Robb. Once she thought she could marry a nice enough lord and be happy just to attend to her children, but as cruel as it sounded: Robb was not enough to make her happy. She longed to have a happy family like her parents.

And sure, Jon loving her like a wife would be ideal, but since they could barely be caught in the same room, what kind of picture would that paint for their son in the future?

They arrived in the city, to find it decorated with Targaryen banners and a variety of colored cloth hanging in the streets. There would be a feast tonight and a tourney the next morning to celebrate Daenerys’ name day. Sansa didn’t know how to feel about the feast and the money for the tourney. The Crown’s debt was lessened by Daenerys’ contacts in the east. And Drogon did the rest to scare the Iron Bank into dropping the interest but it was still no reason to pour money down the drain like that.

It was noon on the day of the feast when they arrived. The Starks were the last to make it to the Keep. They both took a bath and got cleaned up, because before the great feast, the Queen wanted to see all lords and ladies of the Great Houses  in the Throne Room before the meal for an audience. Sansa didn’t know what to expect but she tried to stay vigilant.

They got dressed after that in their House colors. Sansa put on a silvery-grey dress with long sleeves and a high color, wolf emblem resting her shoulders and the necklace the Queen gifted her on her wedding day. Jon wore a darker shade of grey with a direwolf pin holding his cloak in place.

Daenerys was sitting on the Throne when they arrive, Drogon curled around the base of the cursed thing. She looked regal, their Queen all in black, with a heavy crown on her head. This was staged to remind them all who was ruling them, as if anyone needed a reminder after only two years. Jon and Sansa stood next to Edmure Tully, his very pregnant wife Roslin and their two children - little Edmure, now four, and his sister Lysa, who was barely two years of age. Both spotted the typical Tully looks. Her uncle wore a deep blue with silver accents and his wife wore a deep maroon dress; the children wore the same color scheme.

Next to Edmure stood Sweetrobin. He looked as pale as the white bird on his cloak, as he was facing the Dragon Queen utterly alone. He hasn’t married yet, she realized. Next to him was Yara standing with a considerate amount of space between her and the sickly man. She wore a fine sailor’s attire in black with a large kraken on her chest. The man next to her could only be her husband, Lucimore Botley, a cousin of the lord of Lordsport. Tristifer, the lord in question, was said to have romantic feelings for his lady. He had even proposed to her a second time and was ready to give up his claim and lands to become her Lord Consort, but she refused him and married his cousin. It was out of malice, the people said, but since then Tristifer was the laughingstock of the Iron Islands.

Next to them, Tyrion was standing there, clad in red velvet and gold chains, his wife Quenra was wearing a heavy gold dress with golden bells in her hair, a babe around two years with dark hair and green eyes named Jamie in her arms. Sansa scrunched her nose at her ex-husband’s blatant display of wealth. What did Dany think about the behavior of her Hand? Did she still distrust him? Willas Tyrell stood there alone, but definitely looking more comfortable than Robert Arryn. Sansa looked at the man that remind her so much of Margaery that her heart ached. She missed her friend. And her brother in his fresh green clothes and golden rose pendant and the golden rose on his walking cane, reminded her of her.

Raymund Connington, the only male heir of house Connington, had inherited the Stormlands since there were no more Baratheons; his sister Ayleen was given their ancestral home while he was given Storm’s End. He seemed nervous being in a room with a dragon. The new Prince of Dorne, Dorian Martell, was standing next to Connington, head held high. He grinned in Dany’s direction, dark eyes shining with lust. Sansa watched him for a bit. She didn’t know why he wanted to be Daenerys’ lover, when the Queen had made it clear that she had no intentions to marry anyone anytime soon. Wasn’t Dorne enough? Had he some plan to marry and kill the Queen to seize the Throne before there was a legitimate heir? The thought was worrisome.

The Queen rose and the lords and ladies of the great houses knelt before her. It was such an obvious demonstration of power that Sansa mulled over what could have happened down here that she hadn’t been aware of in the North. Did something provoke the Queen or was she just getting paranoid? Would it be wiser to entertain spies anyway?

“My loyal lords and ladies, it is such a great honor to have you all in my midst, so soon after the wars that broke this Kingdom in half.” Daenerys’ smile was as predatory as it was friendly. The dragon to her feet stirred and a few of the present nobles quavered before its might. Sansa held her breath and tired her best not to move. Drogon was here only to intimidate them, to remind them who exactly they served.

Dany made her way down, the hem of her dress fluttering behind her like a starless night. She moved to the Prince first. “Rise, Dorian Nymerious Martell. Lord of Sunspear, Prince of Dorne.” The young man made a spectacle out of bowing to her a second time and taking her fair hand in his to kiss her dark dragon ring. 

“My Queen,” he cooed, “it is an honor and a personal pleasure to meet you again.” There was a flirty glint in his dark eyes and Sansa saw what she expected to see.

“I am certain it is, Prince,”smirked Daenerys, liking the attention of a handsome man.

With deliberately slow steps the Queen made her way to Sansa. “Rise, Sansa Stark, Lady of Winterfell, Wardenness of the North and Princess of the Realm.”

Sansa fell in an elegant curtsy, all the little bird she once had been. “Thank you, your Highness,” she murmured, looking the other woman in the eye. 

“It is so good to have you with me again Sansa. I’ve missed you.”

Another smile. “And I you, my Queen.” Sansa tried not to choke on the words.

“Rise Jahaerys Targaryen, Lord Consort of Winterfell and Prince of the Realm.  _ Nephew _ .”

Jon was way stiffer than his wife when he made it to his feet again, greeting his aunt. Daenerys appeared not to notice, merely nodding at his response. “It is a pity you could not bring my little nephew with you. What did you name him again?” 

Swallowing, Sansa prepared herself to play her part. “Robb, your Grace. After my beloved brother, who meant so much to me-  _ to both of us _ . You do understand, my queen, don’t you? The desire to keep the people that left us alive by naming our children, our new loves after them?”, Sansa asked as innocently as she could. 

“Of course, I do. I will love to meet the Heir to Winterfell someday soon.”

With that she turned and greeted her Hand: “Rise, Tyrion Lannister, Lord of Casterly Rock, Warden of the West and Hand of the Queen. And you, Lady Quenra. Please let me see your son.” The beauty next to Tyrion curtsied and held the boy with Lannister green eyes out to her Queen. “Jaime Lannister,” Daenerys said musingly. “I can’t say I’m too happy that you named your heir after the man that murdered my father...” She shot Tyrion a glance that said a lot of things Sansa could not place. “...but we both know how much you loved your brother. He is a beautiful boy.”

“Thank you, your Grace,” Tyrion bowed.

There was something about seeing Daenerys with a small child that filled Sansa with pity. The Dragon Queen would never have children of her own and there was no way that she could take in children to foster. As Queen she had other duties and Sansa felt an odd pang of agony at the thought of losing a child, now that she had her own.

Danny moved on to Sweetrobin, who looked absolutely terrified, but Sansa had to admit that he did his best to stay polite and honorable. Uncle Edmure and his Frey wife were greeted, their children inspected. Little Edmure remembered how to address the Queen correctly and was promised a toy for his efforts. Lord Connington wore an unreadable expression when it was his turn and Willas Tyrell was pleasant enough, if a bit passive.

Then there were Yara and her husband. Dany openly grinned at her friend, when she spoke their titles and let them pay their respects. It was no secret that Yara preferred the late night company of women, while the Queen didn’t seem to have a preference at all. But this is the first time that it occurred to Sansa that there could be more to it then harmless flirting here and there.

“Before I let you go to the feast, there is one last thing. Well, two.”, Daenerys was sitting on the throne again. “First, the festivities for my name day will take a week and I expect all of you to stay until the very end.” Sansa bit down the anger that laced her veins. She had hoped to excuse herself halfway through the tourney to go see her son again and now Daenerys made her stay even longer than those three days. “Of course, you all will be catered to. And for my dear subjects that are not married yet-” she made a deliberate gesture to the men in question. “I order you to find a suitable match at this time. It can’t be the case that in a time of such political uncertainty, so many of the great houses are without an heir.” There was loud protest, but Drogon hissed once to shut them all up. Daenerys’ eyes glittered in glee as she said the final words: “We will make a game out of it.”

Sansa let herself fall onto a chair in the Great Hall, where the members of lower houses were already waiting for the Queen to arrive. Sansa was seated to Dany’s left, with Jon next to her, while Prince Dorian was seated on the Queen’s right, and after him was Tyrion and his wife.

Sansa spotted Theon down there with some more Ironborn men, laughing and waiting for the feast to begin. She smiled to herself. Gods, she had missed her foster brother a lot. Seeing Theon so unashamed of himself and happy made the tightness around her own heart a bit more bearable. They had to catch up soon.

Sansa was deep in thought trying to understand what kind of game Dany had in mind. She was almost startled when Jon touched her hand. He leaned in and asked, “What are you thinking about, Sansa? There is no way you can know what she will do. Just try to enjoy yourself a bit.” His hot breath tickled her skin and she was painfully reminded that he refused to touch her. How she longed for him to put his hands on her body, how insufferable it was to lie next to him every night without touching his bare skin, who sweet a kiss could taste…

“I-“, and that was that for Sansa’s answer, because that was the moment Dany came in. Her dress a dream of light and flowing cloth that was almost obscene with its sheerness, but it matched her eyes perfectly.

The mighty black crown was replaced by a filigree silver tiara, delicately woven into her light hair. She was like a whole other person. The feast was a success all around. A few people like the Tullys and Quenra Lannister retired fairly early with their children, while some people drank themselves under the tables and some would most likely end up in the wrong bed.

Sansa was slightly drunk when she got up from the almost deserted high table. Jon was in a corner talking to other northerners who made the journey south with them. Amongst them stood Samwell, laughing and enjoying himself. Sansa deliberated briefly if she should go over there to talk to him, but she wanted to leave the men to have time to themselves. The Queen was nowhere to be seen, to Dorian’s visible dismay, given he had tried the whole meal to make the conversation work between them. Well, he could not be too defeated, if the pretty young maiden he was chatting with was any indicator. Tyrion was also very close to vanishing with a bunch of servant girls, probably with the promise of gold. Sansa made her way out on the search for her room.

But on her way out she was approached by a young girl, her own age. She recognized. Cassandra Cerwyn, the daughter of one of House Stark’s bannermen. She was a slim girl with dark brown hair, a round face and dark eyes. “My lady,” she said in a rushed voice, her pretty face warm with alcohol, “I hope you don’t take offence in my asking, but there is a rumor going around, that the Queen did especially invite houses with unmarried maidens because she intends to marry them to the bachelors of the great houses. Do you - by any chance - know anything about that?”

Sansa watched the girl for a moment and felt a hollow sense of loss deep in her gut. Cassandra was maybe a few months younger than Sansa, but she was still so full of hope and wonder, when it came to the Court and Knights. A part of Sansa wished she could be that girl again. Sometimes she dreaded the carefulness and suspicion she had to surround herself with.

“No offence taken,” Sansa felt her smile come easier and more honestly than it had all day. “We were informed about some sort of game that the Queen wants to play, but we weren’t given any details.” If it were even possible, Cassandra’s eyes got even rounder. “My lady, do you think I would have a chance with Ser Willas? He is so handsome and mysterious…”

Smiling, Sansa tuned out the rest of the girl’s rambling. It was bizarre to think that she was once was like her, eagerly talking about a betrothal, about seeing Highgarden with Margaery. Right now, it was too much. She excused herself quickly, after making sure one of her own men would walk the maid to her chambers, and made her way to her own.

Sure that this was the room in question, Sansa was grabbing the doorknob, but there was movement inside and she hesitated until she heard: “Danny, I will not beg.” Holding her breath nervously, Sansa deliberated if she should stay and eavesdrop “Why beg,  _ my dear _ ? You are the married women, not me.” Daenerys voice was a sultry whisper and Sansa moved away as she heard the wet sound of kissing and the occasional giggling.

As she slipped behind the right door, Sansa rested her weight on the hard wood, as she opened her now messy braid. There was heat pooling in her belly. She knew that feeling, but it wasn’t one she had much time to explore in the past. The mental image of Yara and Danny kissing… possibly more, it made her yearn for Jon even more. Touching the sensitive skin of her neck, were Jon’s breath had caressed her earlier. The memory haunting her like a ghost. With her fingers tracing kisses that never were. Sansa felt hopeless in her love for Jon. She sat here after what had been a fairly fun night alone and desperate for his attention. It rubbed her the wrong way. Why couldn’t she fall in love with someone who was able to reciprocate her feelings? In a perfect world she would be married to someone who loved her just as much as she did. But the older she got, the more her parents’ marriage seemed like the fabric of fairy tales. Sansa was sure she could handle a marriage without love, if it would be loveless of both sides. No, the situation was worse: Jon loved her, he did. Just not like she needed him to love her.

Suddenly there was a push against the door and Sansa jumped up and almost lost her balance. There was Jon standing in the threshold, looking confused. “Sansa, are you alright?”, he asked. But she wasn’t alright, nothing was alright. “I’m fine, Jon.”, she rubbed her eyes, just to do something against the rising headache. How long ago had her last cup of wine been? “I just need to sleep. I drank a bit and now I’m dizzy.” “Aye, I saw. You never drink…”, he fell silent. “You never drink, Sansa.”

“Yes, that had been a bad idea.”, she sighed, walking deeper into the room. It was a lavish bedchamber considering half the seven kingdoms were currently staying in the capital. It was decorated in the Stark colors and there was a small bouquet of winter roses. Gods know where they got them from in the middle of Winter. There was a note next to the vase. A note Sansa had not seen before in the rush of getting to the throne room.

_ These delicate flowers are almost as beautiful as you. I hope you will enjoy your stay. -D _

She was too tired for Daenerys games. So, she left the note and fiddled with the clasp of the ivory necklace, to no avail. Frustrated she stopped and watched herself in the looking glass. She seemed paler than usual and her hair was a messy mess of copper. “Should I help you?” Jon came into her vision. He was handsome as ever. His dark hair curling near his shoulders and his grey eyes sparkling in the low moon light. She wished she could just turn and kiss him. They were married for over a year now and he hadn’t kissed her yet.  _ She _ hadn’t kissed  _ him _ yet.

“Yes.”, she said softly and then: “Thank you.” Jon moved behind her as she watched him closely thru the glass. His fingers brushed her skin carefully as he put her hair aside and there was gooseflesh left in his wake. Sansa shivered. “Sorry.”, Jon’s voice was a low chuckle. “Cold hands.”

Biting her lip, Sansa shook her head a bit. “It’s fine…” He opened the little silver chain and dropped the dire wolf in Sansa’s hands; their eyes met in the mirror. And for a moment Sansa could not breath. There were so many things she wanted to tell him, but that could not, would not leave her lips. In the end she was not brave enough. Sansa put the necklace next to the damned note.

“Wait. I’ll-“, Jon stopped her from walking over to the dressing screen. He carefully opened the buttons on the back of her dress, caressing her skin with every move. Sansa could not bare it. This was torture. His hands were cold, a nice balm on her hot skin.

When he was finished, she did say nothing and just peeled out of the dress, pooling it at her ankles. She turned to face him than, in her short-sleeved undergarments that let him see her scared arms, legs and shoulders. Jon’s hands dropped from her almost immediately.

He did think her hideous. Sansa hated that she was so insecure about her looks. She was a politician now. She had survived tragedy and war, whether it was through kindness or her own wits, she did everything she could to return the kindness that was done to her. But here she was standing in front of her husband, a man she known her entire life, and all she could think about was her broken body.

She was more than a pretty face. She knew that. She knew that Jon knew that. Even when they were fighting, they supported each other in their daily duties around the castle. She was better than that. But being bare in front of him transformed her back into that little girl that wanted to please the people around her, including Jon. But that was not her anymore; she hated to be so vulnerable.

She wanted, needed to be strong. For Jon, for little Robb and for herself.

It would have been easy, to touch him. Jon was standing there right in front of her and she could stretch her hand out and press against solid muscle. She could bend down and put her mouth on his soft lips; she might taste the ale on his tongue. It was easy.

In the end she turned away.

When they both changed, they fell into bed together. And maybe it was the alcohol but this time around Sansa could feel Jon’s arm resting against her side, his body’s warmth making her more comfortable than any blanket could. Here in the dark, she realized how much she missed little Robb and she wished there was a way for her to check up on him other than a raven that needed way to long. Jon didn’t complain when she rolled over to him and burrowed her face in his shoulder. He just put a reassuring hand in her hair and held her with the other. It was peaceful.

And so, the day ended.

The three days of tournament blurred in one.

On the fifth day of Daenerys name day celebration found a pair of garments of the bed in her chamber. Jon was outside talking to Lord Manderley who bought also his younger still unmarried daughter south.

The cloth was a deep, blood red. It was both a simple dress for presumably Sansa and a shirt with trousers in the same red hue. Next to it lay a pair of blood red masks. There were simple lifeless pictures of a human face and almost identical to each other. Next to it was a note with instructions, that told Sansa and Jon for that matter to attend a dance tonight wearing those clothes as all married couples would. (Of course, were they excused if they didn’t want to attend). It would be a dance were the four suitors of the great houses would find themselves their betrothed. (Sansa thought about Cassandra and her excitement)

Sansa’s brows furrowed, as she read. Whatever Daenerys’ plan was this was a recipe for disaster.

A knock and a maid came in to inform the Lady Stark that her majesty wanted to see her, and was asked to bring her dress. Sansa spoke to Jon briefly as she walked out, passing a fresh vase full of winter roses. Those appeared the last four days whenever to old one began to die, and Sansa hadn’t talked to Daenerys about it yet.

She didn’t know for sure, but she suspected that the flowers were there to annoy Jon. Sansa had noticed that the Queen was particular flirty with her from time to time but that didn’t mean anything. Sansa had no interest in becoming the Queen’s mistress, even if she had a taste for her own gender. No, Sansa was pretty sure that Daenerys knew. She just toyed with them because she could. Was it because Jon had toyed with her feelings? In the end it made no difference.

She was brought into a vast sitting room were almost forty young girls were sitting, some Sansa recognized some she did not. There were other women who were definitely married. Sansa saw Lady Lannister and Gilly, who watched the unmarried girls with furrowed brows. Sansa saw the dark hair of Cassandra, who talked to Wylla Manderley and a woman that could only be a Lannister cousin. How many Frey girls were there? Three? Four? “Gilly.”, Sansa called. “Do you know what is going on?” But Gilly could not answer, because Daenerys made her entrance in a long silver dress. And a delicate dragon mask.

“My dear Ladies.”, she called loud. “I brought you here because tonight we will play a game.” She gestured them to sit down and all followed suit. Daenerys explained that the four bachelors would find their bride in the midst of the maidens here. A bunch of handmaidens brought in dresses similar to the red dresses the married women spotted. There were all to dance with the men in question tonight that would wear the same silver coloring the queen wore. Then when everyone had a chance to make an impression, the suitors would choose three of them to have their face and name revealed to him and they all would have lunch with the girls he had chosen. Then on the sixth day all other guests would cast votes for their favorite amongst the girls and then the pairs would be free to go and plan their weddings if they would marry soon enough (whatever that meant in Daenerys’ case.)

So, they all got dressed. Same dress, same shoes, same mask, same hairstyle.

Sansa felt a headache creep out from the back of her head. She was relieved when she found Jon among the masked men. He smiled when he saw her. “Sansa. Do we really have to be part of this-“, he looked around all the people dressed identically, the girls in white “this spectacle?”

And a spectacle it was. The Dornish Prince was the crowd’s favorite. He knew his dance moves, was charming with every single girl he talked to. Especially the younger ones were swooning over him, but he had his eyes on the Queen the whole time anyway. Reymund Connington was a little stiff and the oldest of the four, so despite his position, there was not much talk about him. Willas was gallant and polite, even though his leg made dancing difficult and Robert was well, it was hard for Sansa to watch her cousin embarrass himself.

But she herself had a surprising amount of fun that night. She danced with Theon and even Yara from time to time, and once with Yara’s husband who seemed nice enough, and well, very openly disclosed that he would rather dance with Jon than Sansa. Even Jon indulged his wife once or twice with a dance.

Theon counted the steps softly as he guided her through the mass of other dancing pairs. It was an adorable sight. Giggling, she helped him. It was nice to dance with him, even though he wasn’t the most skilled dancer in the room, but she had her fun. While they were spinning in circles, she told him about little Robb, about all the things that were too detailed to put in the short letters she had sent him, about his babbling, his smile, his little hands and little smile. After a while they came to a halt and Sansa leaned into him for a bit. Theon had come to represent the safety she had had with her brother Robb, once upon a time. Life was strange like this. She smiled a last time at Theon as Jon asked her to dance too. (he only asked because she had annoyed her a few times earlier)

Her husband was ridiculously bad at dancing, but it didn’t matter. Sansa was light with wine in her veins and music in her ears. She laughed breathlessly when Jon swung her around himself, hung on tight to him, so that his hot breath could tickle her neck again and again. His hands where on her hips and she was the center of his attention. It was glorious.

“Jon,” she giggled.

He seemed bemused with his wife’s tipsy state. “Yes?”

“Jon!” she stopped in the middle of the dance floor and took his face in her hands, her mask touching his. “We should not fight ever again,” she whispered very seriously. “It is way too dreadful to fight when we could make something fun- Or well, anything more productive really.” Humming under her breath, Sansa pressed herself further into his body. “Jon, will you dance with me at home? When we go back, I mean, when we go back to Robb?”

Jon held her close. His fingers on her bare arms, warm and secure. And right. “I will dance with you as long as you want, Sansa, but you are very drunk right now and since you usually don’t drink-“ Sansa shushed him with a finger to his mask, and then because it did nothing to actually shut Jon up, she pushed his mask away to actually press her finger to his soft lips. That left the mask hang from his face in an awkward angle.

“I’m not drunk, Jon.”

“I beg-“, he tried to speak over her hand and she pressed harder into him, all while giggling to herself. “It tickles when you talk like this.”

It was so easy to kiss him (again, again she was in a situation like this she noticed). His plump lips were soft. She knew now that they were soft. They-

Sansa tried to lose the inappropriate thoughts about Jon. She tried to stay in the moment. Here in the nicely decorated hall on the marble dance floor, all her worries seemed so very far away. Jon was here by her side. He was not really sober anymore either. Even though he held his ale better than she did with her wine. She’d like to think that he enjoyed himself too. It would be really nice to have more moments like this, when they both could just unwind. She had to find a way to bring this feeling home to Winterfell with her.

They finished their dance and they evening progressed. Sansa was too drunk to remember who was chosen by the noble man to marry. She didn’t care that much at that moment anyway, Jon wanted to retire and after Sansa tried half-heartedly to get him to stay, she danced more with Yara and Theon and Lucimore and with Yara some more.

But Yara was distracted and it was getting on Sansa’s nerves. Until she turned and saw that Daenerys was sitting and laughing with the Dornish Prince. Would they leave together after the Queen was literally setting up a marriage for him? Was Yara in love with her? If so, did Daenerys care?

After both the Queen and the Prince left in fast succession of each other Yara took to drinking and Sansa had no mind to dance anymore. She threw away her shoes and ran to the half dead castle halls. Keen on making it somewhere where it was less depressing. She was careful to lose Theon in the little crowd of people left. She didn’t need him to keep her. Who was he to promise Jon to take care of her? She was an adult, not a child.

She turned a corner and came to a total stop. There in the was Daenerys standing back up against the cold wall, Dorian held her there with his hip propped up against her, one hand against the wall the other one disappearing underneath Danny’s dress, his lips on her bare breast.

Her breathing was irregular and shallow, and as Dorian sucked on her nipple she moaned and made eye contact with Sansa who now fully understood what she was seeing after her fuzzy brain caught up to what she witnessed. There was heat on her already warm skin and it wasn’t only from embarrassment. Sansa felt that she wanted, now that she saw how free Daenerys was with her sexuality. Last time she had chosen to look the other way, but now it was literally in her face.

Gods, she wished that she had the confidence to enjoy sex. It had been better the last few times. She could focus on the fact that she loved Jon but she could never let go enough to draw actual pleasure from it. She wished she could.

Danny smirked when she noticed Sansa’s ashamed face and bit her lips, groaned louder, rolled her hips seductively, while she liked her upper lip slow and deliberately. Sansa was just collecting her wits to leave when Daenerys shoved Dorian away, ignoring his obvious erection. “What, your Majesty?”, he asked sharp, “You have your fun with me and then you let me alone and needy?”

She did not answer only kissed him hungrily, yanking at his clothes, rolled her hip into his erection, leaving him moaning. “I decide when I sleep with whom.”, she whispered in his ear, but loud enough for Sansa to hear. “Don’t you worry, I’m not bored of you yet.”

Sansa didn’t see more, she made her way down to the room she shared with Jon and slipped in.

Jon laid already in bed, but Sansa had other ideas. He was not asleep yet. Sansa stumbled in, red-faced and with heat between her legs. “Jon.”, she called softly. “Jon…”

“Are you alright, Sansa?”, Jon’s speech was slurred by the ale he had consumed. “Yes! I-“, she stopped, mulling her words over. But instead she climbed into their bed, on top of her husband. He seemed confused from what she saw, what little light they had in the low moonlight. “Jon.”, she breath out. His body was warm and solid under her. It was easy to press her hips against him. She put her hands on his bare chest, dragging her fingers slowly over his skin, his scars. “Sansa, what are you doing?”, his voice was rough. Licking her lips she giggled. “I don’t know.”, Sansa atmeded. “I just.”, she pressed harder, pressed her cunt into his warmth. “Fuck me, Jon.”, she whispered and bit her lips afterwards, as to keep her desires in, as if she could take the request back. Because that was not really romantic, was it? Telling a man to fuck her, like she had no dignity. But right now the fire in her veins was burning hot enough that she didn’t care that much. She needed Jon to show her.

“Sansa.”, Jon sounded pained. “I am drunk. You are drunk. This is not a good idea.” She shifted her position, pressing herself against his cock. “Maybe, but…”, he was solid there and she couldn’t help but roll her hips a bit. She was restless, wanting,  _ wanting Jon _ . He was all she ever wanted in a man when she was a little girl and she was married to him and she very evidently wanted him sexually too, but she was afraid too, after everything she was  _ afraid _ . So much so, that she could only let herself relax now that she was drunk. Even though there was a little voice in the back of her head telling her that she needed to sober up first, the want was more present and it was easy to ignore the rest.

“Please.”, she murmured now pressing flush against him, lips against his ear, “Don’t make me beg. I want to know if I can enjoy it. If it can feel good, like-“, she stopped dead in her tracks. Like Daenerys seemed to enjoy it as the prince had put his fingers into her, but Sansa cringed at the thought. She didn’t want to think about  _ her _ while in bed with her husband. It was bad enough that she was technically the reason Sansa was in this position here. What kind of game was the Queen playing with her and Jon, that made her that interested in Sansa. She could not make herself believe that Daenerys had honest sexual desires directed towards herself. No, she- She didn’t want to think about anything like that right now. It was all pointless. Pointless and time consuming.

Sansa felt his penis perk up as she dragged her tongue over the salty skin of his neck, taking in the taste and the experience. It made the heat pooling in her stomach worse. Sansa was aching for Jon to touch her, but she didn’t know how to communicate that to him. Her head felt light from the wine she had that night, and nothing seemed more important than feeling, experiencing how good sex could be; nothing was more important than having Jon touch her, wanting her.

After dragging her hand over her own neck, the exposed skin there and the scars, feeling the burning of want more prominent under her skin, she lifted the red skirt of her dress, exposing herself to Jon, while she shuffled with his trousers. Then for a moment she held back waiting for his consent. Jon’s nod was subtly but there. All hesitation was drowned out in the pleasant buzz of drunkenness and when she let him slip inside her now very wet cunt, she could not repress the almost scandalous moan that left her lips.

Fuck, she had many expectations but nothing came close to the real thing. How came that it had been so painful the last few times she had laid with him, but now it was a delicious ache that left her wanting so much more? She did not understand her own body in that instance. It was weird like that.

As she moved her hips a bit, experimental, trying to find a comfortable speed and rhythm to do this, she felt his gaze on her and by the God’s she had never seen his eyes be that dark, that hungry. It was nice, riding his cock like this. She became bolder with his heated gaze on her, bouncing up and down, while her knees dug into the mattress. Sansa bite her lip hard in an attempted to stifle her cries of pleasure. Thinking was impossible like this and she was not sure if she wanted to think, not now that she heard how Jon’s breathing got ragged too.

She was feeling surprisingly free like this. It was a different sensation. It made her bold, the knowledge that sex could be so spectacularly good; that she could make Jon feel good. She didn’t feel as broken as she felt before and most importantly: She felt same enough with him to try herself out. Sure, it was not ideal that she was drunk of her ass but she knew that this here, was safe for her.

Suddenly Jon decided that he didn’t want to be passive anymore. He lifted his torso and put a strong arm around Sansa’s middle and trusting himself into her on his own devices, deep. Sansa couldn’t do anything else than cry out his name as hot pleasure washed over her. It was too much and not nearly enough all at once. Without thinking she wrapped her legs around him, as he put on his own rhythm into place. His mouth was on her shoulders, her neck, every inch of it that wasn’t covert by obstructive red cloth. Sansa was gone at this point. She needed more. She needed him to touch her more, even though she was not sure how. So, she rocked her hips impatiently and whined. A high and pathetic sound, but she didn’t have much space in her mind to dwell on that.

Jon honest to the Gods, chuckled at her neediness, while he pushed her now almost completely loose hair out of her face and kissed her forehead in a gesture so tender it seemed out of place right there. He was so handsome in this moment: Dark eyes, ruffled hair and these lips that were haunting Sansa since what felt like an eternity, in a nice and reassuring smile.

Grabbing onto his face, she nearly lost balance and pushed them both down, but Jon steadied them. Without much pretense she smashed their lips together, in a desperate need to be close to him. He froze for a short instance and she feared that she had ruined the moment. That he would retreat now and ask her to leave. But to her relive and surprise, he moved his lips hungrily against hers. The kiss was far from perfect: It was messy, wet and all teeth and tongue but as far as Sansa was concerned, it was the best damn thing in the world.

Sansa rocked hard against Jon as his rhythm became quicker and rapid. She was thrown over the edge shortly before he was. To orgasm was a strange but good experience. Her toes curled deliciously, and Jon’s name was on her lips like a prayer. When he filled her up, she was to tired and drunk to even think about cleaning up after them. (It was not a pleasant experience to wake up like that the next morning.)

The lunch was a buzz of rumors about the Queens Game. This meal was less formal than the feast on their first evening, so Sansa found herself in the middle of the hall surrounded by her friends. She was still in the grip of a wicked hangover, an active reminder why she usually didn’t drink. Jon hadn’t mentioned last night to her so far and Sansa was glad for it filled her with embarrassment. Gilly and Sam talked about the new Library there were erecting in Horn Hill, little Sam spoke about the tales his father had read him in excited little voice. The boy was four now and looked all like his mother. His brother Dickon was two now and had a round face like his father.

Sansa’s ached for her own son. How much had Robb grown in the time she had spent here? How much more would he grow in the time it would take them to come home? She wished she could be excused from all of this madness to just stay home in Winterfell for the rest of her life. She would be happy like that.

She looked over to Sam and Gilly again. He was just leaning in to kiss the smile from her lips. His own smile stretching on his mouth. Little Sam butted in demanding a kiss from his parents too and they lean down to kiss both his cheeks together. Giggling the child smooched his brothers plump little cheek.

From the corner of her eye Sansa now watched Jon, who in turn also watched the Tarlys. Did he miss Robb too? Probably he did. Wishing she could have what Gilly had, Sansa tried to focus on the food before her and tried to ignore the four pieces of paper that lied there too with a quill next to it. She didn’t want to think about Daenerys right now.

Why was she always just jealous? Why couldn’t she just appreciate what she had? Didn’t she learn anything? It was tiresome. Sansa found herself so incredible annoying sometimes. She could be so  _ stupid _ -

Theon who had complained about Sansa running off the other night but was quick to forgive her. Sansa sometimes wished she could bring him back home with her but that was really selfish as well. Theon had earned his place on Pyke by his own sister’s side. She knew he still loved them, the Starks, all, but his time in Winterfell was over. In these moment Sansa ached for the old days of her childhood. Where she had Robb and Arya and a bright Bran and little Robb and Theon’s teasing and Mother and Father. Now the halls in Winterfell were so awfully empty. She missed Bran and she worried for Arya and Gendry. Little Robb was there of course but a babe could not completely fill the void of loss in her heart. He was not suppose to. She had to be strong for her family. This self pity didn’t lead to anything other than more pain.

Yara had been absent from breakfast and even now she seemed to be very dizzy, when you knew what you were looking for. None of them mentioned the Queen in her presents.(Sansa was curious to know what had happened between the two woman, but she would not be so rude and ask. It was not her place to know) Lucimore was eager to fill them in on what happened with the Game last night. (If it was with honest interested in the coupling or just to fill the silence for his wife, she could not tell)

Dorian was the first and quickest to choose. He quickly pointed to three girls that all had various degree of blonde hair: Janna Lynderly, a girl of teen and eight, with light eyes, Lorna Lannister, daughter of Kevan Lannister, a girl of twenty, who spotted the typical Lannister looks; and finally: Prya Inchfield a maiden of teen and nine, with pretty brown doe eyes.

After him it was Sir Conningtons turn. He didn’t seem to care much for Daenerys’ schemes and pointed seemingly at random: Kara Mallister, a maid of twenty three with thick brown hair, Talla Tarly, much to Sam’s scorn, (he did allow her to take part, but he was wary of the older man intentions with his sister and wished he would not choose her after all.) and finally: Joy Erenford.

Robert seemed overwhelmed with his task but eventually chose (Theon said it was a pitiful affair): Rylene Florent, Galinya Gaunt and Sasha Frey were the maiden of his choice.

At last Willas Tyrell came fourth to choose, according to Lucimore he pointed first at Cassandra Crewyn with her bright smile, than Drissella Crakehalle and Isis Dandarion.

Sansa looked down on the four pieces of paper before her. They all had to write down one girl per Lord to decide who would marry whom and Sansa felt sick at the thought of being part of arranging a marriage like that but, she did as she was ask, as did her companions. In the end the day was shorter than Sam, first and foremost anticipated.

As the last day of the Queen’s celebration came to an end the Nobles rode home with four new bethrovels between their houses:

Dorian Martell and Lorna Lannister

Reymund Connington and Talla Tarly

Robert Arryn and Sasha Frey

Willas Tyrell and Cassandra Crewyn

Sansa preyed to all the gods that they hadn’t doomed these girls. Talla seemed so excited when she had left with her brother, who in turn looked very worried. And Cassandra seemed to beam all the way back north. A smile so wide, it almost split her face in two. Sansa tried to not feel guilty.

Month later when Sansa was sitting home with her belly curved and tea in her hands, she got word from the court. Apparently Dorian Martell had bought his new bethrowed to Dorne after stopping in Lannisport for just a few days. He intended to marry her there in the sept right away. Maybe they were already wed. Reymund Connington made the journey to the Reach to escort Talla east personally and Sweetrobin had no intention to marry the Frey girl anytime soon, even thought she was already at the Erie. He allegedly already threw a Tantrum over it. But the Queen had given order and Sansa’s cousin would be better of following it. Cassandra left her fathers keep a few weeks ago.

Sansa was sitting with Lyanna and Gilly and chatting while there were doing needle work. Well. Sansa was doing needlework, Gilly was fiddling with her youngest wooden knight and Lyanna was holding a book while she listen to Gilly who worried about her good sister very much. Gilly came to like Talla in their shared time in Horns Hill and the girl had been eager to break the engagement made by her late father. A wish Sam granted willingly, but she knew her duty. That was how she allegedly phrased it: She knew her duty to bear a Lords Children and know she was on her way to a strangers keep.

Eager to comfort her friend Sansa reminded her that a lot of good marriages were arranged. She told tales of her loving parents, of how much they had adored each other. Maybe Talla was lucky. Gilly gifted her a thin smile as she was changing the subject: “Have you and Jon decided on a name for the babe yet? You are due soon, aren’t you?”

“Yes.”, Sansa sighed “It can be the case any minute now.” She fiddled with the yarn in her hands. As she watched the boys: Little Sam was now almost five and he sat on the carpet with little Dickon trying to teach him his name. So far, the youngest Tarly could only say Mama and Papa. Robb sat in between them watching thru now dark grey eyes. His brown hair curling at his forehead. “We thought about giving the child a Targaryen name since they will be heir to our Targaryen Queen.” Lyanna looked sour at the mention of a Targaryen name, but didn’t say anything. “We want to name the babe Rhaegar if it is a boy or Naerys if it is a girl.”

They were exchanging more pleasantries. Lyanna talked about the man that wanted to wed her. She wasn’t that interested in marriage yet but knew that she could not avoid it forever. Everyone was marrying now it was not to be avoided. That what happened after war. Everyone was eager to sire children. Sansa would love to have more than the two children she had right know but she was not sure where she was standing in her relationship with Jon. After their drunken affair he had felt used by her and she could not fault him with it. Because in more than one way she did, she had used him. But god’s, she could not get the ecstasy of a good fuck out of her memory. It had been exhilarating.

Not long ago she would have never let another man touch her ever again. She had thought that she would never marry or fall in love and now here she was: Married to a man she actually fell in love with. She had a lovely son that she would kill for and a second child was on their way. It was almost perfect. If only Jon would love her back. It felt selfish now. The desire to have a perfect little family and a husband that loved her. Wasn’t it enough that her family was safe and sound? that there was no war anymore? That her husband respected her?

Why couldn’t she just be satisfied with what she had for once in her life?

Jon did love her even when it was just as a sister, but he did love and respect her. Couldn’t that be enough for once?

Wishing Arya was here to help her, Sansa put the needle aside. And watched her beautiful boy again. He would be a big brother soon, her Robb. He would grow older biside a little sibling. A thought that reminded her painfully of her older brother. Sansa missed Robb. A lot. She had loved him so much. He had been her hero, her brother. Would Robb be like that with the little Babe growing inside her? Would they love each other as dearly? She prayed that they would love each other. When their friends were not with her and Jon, the corridors of the old Keep felt so awfully lonely.

Sansa wanted to fill it with Children to the brim, to compensate the loss of her brothers, her parents, but that would not suffice. Nothing would bring back her Robb, not even the gleeful laugh of little Robb as Sam played with his little hands. The light reflecting in his now grey eyes. No, her children were not a surrogate for the family lost. It was a new family she could tend to despite her broken heart. A new family, a new Love that could coexist with her lost ones. 

She could not hold her boy to the standards of her brother. They may have named him after Robb, but he would be his own person. He would fight his own fight, make his own mistakes, find his own loves. This Robb was his own person. In that moment as she watched the boys play with each other, she silently swore to never compare her son to her brother. It was better that way. She was sure her son would be an honorable man, that would understand his duties, but how he would shape his life was none of her business.

Sansa took her tea back in her hand as she felt a pull in her belly, that made her groan. The other woman worried about her, but the pain would not stop and later wetness between her tights, confirmed that the Baby was coming. Sansa dreaded the painful struggle that was childbirth but the child would be born one way or another and she should give her best to see them afterwards. Too many women lost their lives and Sansa would do anything in her power not to join those. (If there was even much for her to do about it.)

Around five exhausting hours later Rhaegar Targaryen was born. Heir of Daenerys Targaryen the Queen of Westeros. The babe spotting pale blond hair just like his name sake. It was almost too perfect that the little one did spot Valyrian features. It was like a gift from the Gods. Their little gamble was a success.

Jon was there beside her, she knew he had been for the whole birth this time. He seemed relieved that the little one was fine. He was beautiful their second son, His eyes were a typical blue for newborns. That meant they would not be violet like Daenerys. Well, if his hair stayed blonde, that was enough. Sansa was too tired to hold him for long. If it was for her she would hold both her boys forever, just cuddling and talking to them, but her body had other plans, like sleep. Sleep was very necessary right now. Her second son was born.

Sansa Stark had fulfilled her duty as ruler to produce heirs.

All was good.


	3. Daeneyrs Targaryen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You didn’t love me, you tricked me, lied to me. Laughed about the feelings I harbored for you in private, while you had only eyes for her!” There were tears filling her eyes, glittering treacherously. “I loved you, Jon! You are the only family I have left and gods, I wanted you so bad! Did you think about Sansa when you fucked me? When you kissed me? When you told me that you loved me?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again! rape warning for this chapter. I will mark the part you can skip if you need that. Stay safe.

“Mother!”, Robb called over the yard, where her was standing with Brienne and Rhae. He was three now. His brother almost two. The smaller one of the boys stood on wobbly legs, clutching onto the knight's hand, as Jon helped his wife to their carriage.

Sansa was very pregnant again, but Daenerys had given word that the Starks, _all of them_ should attend court again. So, that is where Jon was now bringing his family to. The name day celebration of the queen seemed like a lifetime away. When Sansa stumbled into his bed, asking him to fuck her.

Since then they had talked about this night of course, there had been no way around that one, even though it had been embarrassing for both of them. Since than they agreed on having sex regularly to let Sansa explore her desires in peace, which had let to the babe that was growing in her belly now.

It was a task to let Ghost stay up North, because his wolfs need to protect his pregnant wife was almost as great as his own.

Robb was excited to attend court. He wanted to see other knights; he had said. Not without reassuring Brienne that she was very impressive but being in the Capitol was something else. It broke Jon’s heart seeing his son like this. It made him remember Bran, how he used to be. All little and easily excitable. Robb was eager to meet his “Aunt Danny”, how he came to call her. The name Daenerys was too difficult for him to pronounce. She had visited them shortly after Rhea’s birth, just her and Drogon. Robb barely remembered her.

“Papa? Are you not riding with us?”, Robb put his head thru the door of the wheelhouse too watch his father after he had helped his wife in there, Rhaegar glued to her side. The smaller boy walked a lot already, but it had snowed recently, and the snow made it difficult for his little legs. His hair had stayed as silver as Dany’s and he also took to bubbling words very early. His eyes were grey, but much lighter in hugh than his older brothers.

Robb still looked at him, his round face red from the cold and his dark hair was a mob of unruly curls. “I will ride my horse next to you. Just like Sir Brienne will do.” The boy pounded a bit: “You will not ride with us?”, he asked. Rhae grabbed his brother’s cloak “Robb! Come in.”, And then because the older was ignoring him: “I’m bored. Play with me!”

Sansa sighed from the inside: “Robb, you will see your father often enough on the road” Her hair peaked from her hood, as bright as fire. Her eyes cringed in the faintest smile as she continued: “We have to take care that there is not too much weight in the carriage. Your father-“ “Are you implying that I gained weight?”, Jon asked feigning to be scandalized. His boys giggled and ducked their heads back into the carriage, hiding by their mother. “I would never.”, Sansa laughed now openly.

And for a moment Jon was sure she would kiss him, but she didn’t. Of course, she didn’t. They hadn’t kissed since the night two years ago and he still couldn’t tell her he loved her. He was too afraid. Their relationship was working like this. Sure, it broke his heart, every time she rolled away from him after their lovemaking. But she didn’t owe him anything and he would not push his luck.

They made their journey south safe. As they rode past the city gate, he saw a few figures waiting for them. A bright smile made his way to Jon’s face as he saw his friend. Sam was waiting patiently for him to unmount his horse. The Stark boys shouted out of the carriage to get Little Sam’s attention. The boy now seven waved back excitedly and whispered something to his little brother. Dickon’s eyes shone in the same color as his fathers.

“Jon.”, Sam embraced him tight and with a warmth the man had missed. Just as much as he had missed his friend.

Sam was as round as ever. Life as a Lord did little to get him to exercise regulary, safe for the times his children asked him to play with him, but he was happy for all Jon knew. Gods knew Gilly and Sam deserved a happy and carefree life.

“Can we play, Papa?” Rhae out of all people asked him. His younger was usually shy and reserved but he blossomed in the company of older children and now he was looking up to Jon with color in his cheeks and snow in his light hair.

“I am afraid the Queen wants to see you.”, Sam chimed in apologizing. “All of you.”

Jon watched as Rhae walked back to Sam and Dickon to tell them that he could not stay and play with them right now. All little boys were sad after that. “The Queen also wants to see all children, for whatever reason.”

Jon took a deep breath and smiled sadly.

“We will know soon enough.”

The Tully’s were already there. Sansa made her way down to embrace her uncle who was looking as if he hadn't slept in weeks. His wife held his hand. Their now four children standing with them. Sansa knelt by the twin girls. Elanor and Evedith, who were around Rhae’s age. Both of them had the typical Tully looks, just like their siblings. Edmure jr and Lysa were talking amongst themselves. Smiling and cooing in the twin’s direction, Sansa looked so right in her uncle’s family. All had fire hair and deep blue eyes.

Lady Lannister came into the room with her sons and some maids. Jamie Lannister came running into the room, green eyes round with wonder in the wide throne room and the throne itself. The oldest Tully girl scrunched her nose at the boy’s loud entry. She was the same age and well behaved after all. The first maid was carrying a boy around a year of age with golden hair but dark eyes. Lucian Lannister. The second servant girl held a babe maybe a few moons old a little worm with a golden wimp of hair. Lysander Lannister as they were to learn.

There was a last maid that was carrying a baby girl around six-month-old with stark black hair and a simple linen dress. The hair was too dark to be of Quenra and the babes were to close in age to be carried by the same woman. Violet Hill was Tyron’s bastard and Jon was honestly surprised that it was just the one child. (Maybe she was the only one he claimed)

He didn’t know why the poor girl was here in the crown lands with her father’s family, why Daenerys possibly wanted to see the little worm, but the way the Lady Lannister shot daggers at the little one, made him sick to his stomach.

He may be a prince now (technically), but he would never forget how it hurt to grow up a bastard. Catelyn Tully Stark’s scrutiny was something that would stay with him until the day he died (again). Again, he was painfully reminded and solidified in his promise to never father bastards. He snook a glance at Sansa again and she was watching the bastard girl too. Her face was carefully blank, and Jon could not imagine what she was thinking. He only knew that he never wanted to hurt her like this.

Next Lorna Lannister made her way into the room. She wore a red dress and a heavy gold chain around her neck, her face a terrifying mask of indifference. Jon cringed a bit involuntary. He met Cersei Lannister only a handful of times but her youngest cousin was now, two years into her marriage with Dorian Martell, a spitting image of the Queen that visited Winterfell. A Queen with a King who loved to sleep around and humiliate his wife every chance he got.

It was frightening.

In her arms Lorna held a beautiful baby girl, dornish in appearance safe for crystal clear green eyes. Alexandria Jade Martel was a delicate babe that almost didn’t survive her birth, but her mother didn’t have any of it. Word came to court and even found it’s way north how the Lannister girl spent weeks nursing her child back to health. She didn’t let the girl see a wet nurse and gave her out of sight only when necessary.

The parallels to the mad queen were… there. And worrisome.

Jon made a mental note to not let his children near the Martell girl, only to spare Sansa the pain of dealing with Lannisters. Jon remembered Lorna Lannister two years ago. Young, hopeful, full of light and laughter. Now she seemed nothing but bitter. How people could change. Had Cersei been like this once? Before she married Robert or was it always been chaos for her?

He didn’t want to dwell on pity for a cruel woman like that.

Dorian followed with a distance to his beautiful wife.

Behind him was one pretty servant woman with thick black hair, glowing brown skin and a well, an ample backside. She walked four children in. First there was a boy that was almost eight and very obviously his father’s son. Carnelian Sand. He had hard features were Dorian Martel was handsome. The boy walked in slow deliberate, acute aware that he was the oldest child in the room. His tunic was a saturated, dark red velvet. On his hand a little girl clutched that was around five. She looked like a doll, small delicate. Blonde locks that fell on her shoulders and pale blue eyes. She wore a puffy sky colored dress. Lazuli Sand was the daughter of a noble girl from the reach, that died bringing her bastard into the world.

Clutching onto Lazuli’s hand like a tiny baby chain was another small girl around Rhae’s age, maybe younger. Citrine Sand, hand thick black hair that curled all the way up. Her eyes were so dark they looked completely black. She wore an off shoulder yellowish dress. The last child was a babe in the maid’s arms, maybe slightly younger than Alexandria. A boy that had eyes so pale they were almost white. Dorian named the son of one of his maids Ivory Sand.

Next Talla squeezed herself into the room alongside Cassandra Tyrell, who was holding a cute baby girl with light hair. Talla and Cassandra exchanged pleasantries and Talla was cooing over the child. As she spotted Jon, she walked over to her brother’s friend and embraced him warmly. “Jon. It is good to see you. Is Sam with you?”, she asked looking behind him, not finding the Tarly’s. “He should be on the way now. The queen wanted to see all children that came to the capital.” Talla clutched her still flat stomach and Jon blinked surprised. When she nodded with a bright smile, Jon embraced her again.

Sansa came over to them and Jon had the urge to kiss her. It didn’t matter where. He wanted to kiss her hand or her hair or her lips, he just wanted to press himself onto her, feel her close to him. She was such an important person to him, so precious to him. He was not sure how to express those emotions.

But he bit the inside of his cheek and let Talla share her happy news instead.

Sansa hugged their friend too. She talked some about how she liked Storm’s End and that her husband was nice enough to her even though he left her to her own devices mostly. Clearly there was no love between the Cunnington’s but there was also no resentment. It could be worse. They all knew that and so they talked mostly about children. Who knew maybe Talla could at least find a friend in her husband? It would put her brother at peace at least.

Yara and her husband came barging in wearing matching jerkins and he was caring a young boy. Loron Greyjoy was a giggling at his father’s antics. He was almost three and had black hair and dark eyes. When he was set down, he tippled over to Rhae and eyed the smaller boy with a solemn expression on his face. Yara watched him bemused as the heir to the throne hid behind his brother. Robb scolded at Loron. “What do you want-? What do you want from my brother?”, he asked loudly. The Tully twins hid behind their father, not comfortable with the strangers in the room. (Sansa was fine because she was so obvious a part of their family, but so many other children and adults, where too much).

Loron cooked his head to the side. “He is pretty.”, he simply mumbled and then just kind of shrugged: “His hair is pretty…” Rhae just squished himself deeper in Robbs robes, turning bright red. Jon couldn’t help but chuckle too and Yara got over to her son to pick him up and kiss his cheek. “Come on, little one. We better leave the pretty little prince alone.”

Rhae’s face burned more and he ran over to his mother, hugging her tight and burrowing himself in her, away from prying eyes. Jon walked over, trying to ignore the Lannister’s women glares. The children became more restless the longer they were waiting. Even Lysa Tully who was a well-behaved little girl shot her mother more and more glances shifting and paced on unsure feet. Jon kneeled next to his wife. “Rhae.”, he whispered, “Are you alright? Do you need a moment?” The boy watched him thru silver eyes. “I don’t want them to _see_ me.”, he pressed out. “It is…”, thinking he grabbed his father’s arm. “It’ scary.”, he finally mumbled. Not very helpful, but it was the best attempted for a two-year-old to express complex emotion. Jon tried to smile honestly: “Your Aunt Dany will be here soon and then you and Robb can go with Nelly to go play.” The boy nodded and let himself be carried by his father.

As Jon turned, he saw Robb addressing Lorna Lannister out of all people. His voice was little in the hall, but he tried his best to be polite. “My Lady.”, he stuttered and bowed his head a bit. She smiled at him, even thought she had been clearly annoyed and exhausted, now there was a small smile tugging at her lips. Many people had told them before that Robb was a charming boy that knew how to talk to the people around him. The palace had left the boy intimidated but it seemed that he gradually came to be comfortable here.

Lorna Lannister had moved to her cousin by marriage Quenra who was not so excited by the thought of talking to Robb.

“What do you want to know, little Stark?”, Lorna asked with bemusement in her voice and light in her eyes. Dorian Martell watched his young wife warily. Robb nodded expertly, not catching the tension between adults or how sour the other Lady Lannister was watching him. “How did you manage to make a daughter?”, he asked clearly now. “Rhae and me discuss- disc-“, he frowned as he stumbled over the hard word. He was almost four yes but sometimes talking was hard for him still. “We talked about that we want a baby sister-“, he decided to say instead. “Mother has a baby sister with dark hair.”, he pointed to his own head. “Like me.”

Jon rushed over, grabbing Robb too. “My apologize, M’Lady.”, he rushed out. “He obviously doesn’t know what he is talking about.” She laughed at that, Lorna and something in Jon told him that this was the first laughter in a long time. Some of the other Ladies couldn’t help themselves either. Robb pointed to Lady Tyrell next. “She also has only one girl and it has dark hair.”, he explained. “We-“

“Robb.”, Sansa came over rescuing Jon from this- Whatever it was. She cradled their eldest face. “You can’t ask something like that.”, she explained and as he was trying to protest, continued. “Mothers don’t decide what kind of child they’ll get. The gods do.”

Robb struggled against his father and hopped out of his grip. “Then I’ll pray for a little girl with dark hair, as pretty as…?” He looked at the Lady Lorna again and she smiled bright. “My Alexandria.”

Robb sighted. “That is hard to say, Lady L-“ “You can call me Lorna little Stark.”, she said. “And my maid calls her Lexa sometimes as a term of endearment.” The boy nodded again: “Than you can say Robb to me, Lady Lorna. Lexa has pretty dark hair.” And he turned to Lady Quenra. “Lady Lann’ster. Your son is pretty too. He has sim- sim- his hair is almost like my brothers.”, he said smiling from ear to ear. Quenra didn’t look like she wanted to be part of this conversation, but Lorna seemed to be good with children. Her smile never faltering.

“My cousin, little Lysanders father, has hair like me. That’s why his son has that hair also.” Robb was thinking biting his lip. Jon knew what that meant. Robb was an intelligent child, quick and happy to learn and eager for new experience, but he hated to not understand things and in addition didn’t like to ask strangers for answer. He was proud like this. Robb would ask him, and more often Sansa, sometimes Sam at the occasion he met the other man. Seeing and hearing about their friendship and Sam’s knowledge made Robb instantly trust the man. And Sam for his part was happy to explain and read for four additional ears.

To Jon’s surprise Robb asked “Cousin?”, shily so and was rewarded with a warm smile. “Your mother has a ‘baby sister’?”, she asked in turn. Robb nodded: “Yes. Aunty Arya. She is away finding adventures.” Lorna also nodded. “She is your aunt-“ “Like Aunty Danny.”, the boy supplied happily. Lorna locked eyes with Sansa who just shook her head slightly. The other adults were whispering amongst themselves.

Jon would be kind of offended that she was asking his wife without even thinking to ask him but honestly? How were they to explain that the Queen who was younger than their father was his Aunt? Daenerys had agreed to act as the boy’s aunt until they were older and could understand. “Well, let’s say yes. But my point is.”, she quickly deflected that topic. “When your Aunt Arya would have a child, they would be your cousin.”

Robb bite his lip again. “Thank you for explaining.”, he said and to Quenra “Lys- Lys- Your boy is pretty.” The Lady Lannister rolled her eyes: “You and the Greyjoy boy. Boys _are not_ pretty!” Robb looked confused. “But he is-!“

Sansa laid a hand on his shoulder. “Forgive me Lady Lannister, he is just a boy and-“turning to face Lorna Lannister “Thank you, for your patience.” After that they all waited in relative silence.

At last the twin doors swung open, violently so. Daenerys emerged and as she saw a bunch of frightened children she tried to smile reassuringly. She marched up to the throne, the dark fabric of her dress swimming around her ankles. Behind her Tyrion stumbled in, trying to match her pace. “My Queen-“

“Silence!”, she roared. And then quietly: “My mind is made up, Tyrion.” ” My Queen I beg-“ “Remind me again how rules the seven Kingdoms: You or me?” The hand of the Queen bowed low: “You my Queen.” “And as long as things do not change, I will not hear another word.” She sat.

“Forgive me for the wait.”, she addressed the room. She was radiant, he had to admit, didn’t seem to have aged since Dragonstone. Something that felt like a lifetime ago, but the Queen had a temper and all her beauty wouldn’t make her less bitter, less paranoid for her crown. He asked himself how he could ever think her to be pure, how he could have ever thought to have to love her.

“I want to see your beautiful children.”, she smiled, getting up again. She first embraced Sansa, holding her pretty face in her hands, filling her ears with sweet words and feeling for their third child kicking. “Robb and Rhaegar hope for a baby sister.” Sansa gifted the Queen a gorgeous smile. Daenerys smiled back and then kissed her on the lips. “I am very happy for you.”

There was something hot and ugly in his veins at the sight. Sansa was his. His wife. His love. How dare Daenerys who had everything she wanted, try to take her from him? She had it all: The Throne, her power, almost all men of the realm at her feet, an heir. Why did she had to play with Jon and Sansa like this? Why couldn’t she just let them have some peace?

Then she moved on to him. More accurately she moved to their boys. “Hello little Robb.”, she called. Smiling Robb embraced her. Much to Daenerys delight. “Aunty Dany” he called, much to some other nobles’ horror. But the Dragon queen just nodded and moved on to Rhae who was now actively hidden behind his father. She did not see or care for Robbs open disappointment. “Little Rhaegar.”, Daenerys was not distracted by the boy’s shyness but knelt to match his eye level. “It is such an honor to meet you again.” Her violet eyes glimmered eager in the low afternoon sun. “My little Prince, my little Dragon, tell me, how are you?”

“My queen.”, he mumbled into Jon’s coat and bowed awkwardly and rehearsed. “I am good.” He didn’t seem at all comfortable with the attention not Dany’s nor the other adults in the room. It was worse than it had been all day. Jon’s heart bled for his son. Rhae was a quiet child, who loved to be read to, listen to fairy tales and only went to play with other children when his brother was with him. He loved spending time with his mother or with Sam when he was with them and he sought every bit of information his little hands could get ahold of. He asked so many questions that it would annoy other people at times, but Sansa took it to her to explain as well as she was able to.

But Rhae never seeked attention like Robb did. He liked it best when they were alone only the four of them and he did share his thoughts only most with Robb, who was the bravest person in his eyes. And now he had to endure being put under scrutiny of a queen who bathed in attention like she bathed in milk. She was nothing like his youngest and Jon was afraid she wanted him to be someone he wasn’t. The perfect little heir to her throne, her games.

“My Queen.”, Jon was just in the motion of opening his mouth to speak to Daenerys to stop, when Sansa moved to them, touching the other woman lightly as if she had read his thoughts. “The boy is tired and overwhelmed by the glory of your court. He has difficulty to adjust to her majesty’s presence. I would plea with you to give him more time to get comfortable.”

Danny was disappointed by Rhae. Jon could tell by the way her smile did not reach her eyes. The way she had smiled at him when she learned the truth about his feelings for her. That was how she had smiled at Sansa the first time they’ve met.

“Very well, my darling Lady.”, she cooed. “I will first attend to the other children and then the little ones will all be free to go.” For a moment longer she held onto Sansa invading her personal space again.

An ugly part of Jon just wanted to shove her away.

Then she moved on to the Prince of Dorne. Lorna Lannister held her head high when she presented her beloved daughter. The new little Princess. Daenerys approved readily of the infant and was quick to see the Prince’s bastards, who behaved impeccable. There was a moment when the Queen paused to smile to the pretty servant girl. She then saw over the three Lannister boys. And of course, Violet Hill. “She is a lovely girl.”, Daenerys said, turning to Tyrion, ignoring his wife. “Yes”, he agreed, “Her mother was a beauty. She was the one who named her.” “Was?”

Daenerys walked away. “She died after the birth. A fever.”, he supplied readily. “Pity.”, she sighted. Yara was cold when she presented her son, who was watching Jon. Wait, no. He was watching Rhae. Jon was not sure if his boy noticed but Loron was putting his attention on the Throne Prince. It was something to be warry about.

Jon did not know what had happened between Dany and Yara, but their relationship had turned cold fast and the Queen for her part didn’t seem to by to broken up about her affair ending on bad terms.

The Tully girls were eager to get praised by their queen and Edmure jr. was bowing swiftly. As the queen was moving to compliment the Tyrell girl and congratulate Talla on her pregnancy.

“My loyal subjects. I am pleased with your beautiful children.” She called as she walked between them again. “I have one final request.” It was not really an ask, was it know? All of this was an order. “I want none of my Lords to abandon their children. For that matter none of the nobles in this realm should abandon their blood.”

She trained her icy stare on Dorian. “You will take responsibility for all your bastards! You will care for them in your homes and you will make sure they can support themselves when they are old enough.” She smiled a polit smile in baby Violet’s direction.

“The children may leave now.”, Daenerys made a waving motion as she walked back to the throne and sat herself down. The door was opened, and hand maiden poured in. Nelly got ahold of Robb and Rhae’s hand curtsied to her Lady Stark than left with the children. Arthane, the dornish woman, navigated the children in her care back out and Lorna Lannister gave her daughter reluctantly to another servant girl. When the doors were closed again, Daenerys stood.

“My Lords and Ladies as you might have already noticed not all of you followed my call here.” She flowed down as smooth as water in a river. She walked over to Cassandra and put her hands on her neck. “Some of those not here today are excused.” She smiled to the young girl. “Like Lord Willas, who is laying ill due to his leg, but his gracious wife made the journey in his stead. But others.”

Daenerys walked over to Talla and caressed her flat belly. “Did stay away deliberately without excuse or apology. Of course, her husband’s actions are not Lady Talla’s fault as she came to me as a dutiful subject should. But even as Lord Cunnington’s actions displease me, I am afraid he is not the boldest to defy me.”

She clapped twice, sharp and loud. The door opened again, and a gold cloak pulled in no other than Sweetrobin Arryn. Behind him the Frey girl he was to marry two years ago was escorted in. She walked on her own accord, her head held high. “Robert over here defied my direct order to marry. He has shamed Lady Sasha Frey by sending her back to her uncles house and shamed the crown with his disobedience.”

Daenerys towered over him now, sharp and dangerous with anger burning in her heart. “It appears that he had forgotten who his Queen is and who he answers to.” Robert Arryn looked like a small piece of misery here in front of all of them. “You will marry Lady Frey here in the great keep. It is all prepared so far. Tomorrow they will be wed. Bedding ceremony and all.”

No one dared to speak up to her not even Sweetrobin. “Lord Arryn, just because you are in your own keep, it doesn’t mean you are out of my reach. I am Westeros! I am it’s Queen. My word is your command!”

Moving away from him, she continued: “But I am also the mother of the realm and you are all my children. So, after the wedding you will be forgiven, but…”, she turned to the guards. “He should spend a night in the dungeon to make sure he learned his lesson.”

As Robert was dragged into a holding cell, screaming, Daenerys turned to Sasha Frey. “Cheer up my Lady tomorrow is your wedding day and what a beautiful bride you will be.” The girl curtsied. “You are excused dear, leave.” Another curtsy.

“You may leave now too my Lords and Ladies. And I trust you all will attend tomorrows festivities.”

Rhea was already crawling into his brother’s bed. Jon and Sansa hadn’t even left their room but the little one was already snuggling to Robbs side. Jon chuckled defeated. What did they expect from two little boys in a strange city?

Sansa was going back to kneel by their bed side again. Kissing both of the boy’s face as good as she could reach with her large belly, leaving the little one’s giggle.

Jon stood in the door and watched his little family with soft fondness tugging at his heart. It was almost perfect. The way Sansa loved their children filled him with a burning love for her that seemed to suffocate him at times.

As Sansa tucked them in a last time and walked over to him as they both bit their boy’s good night, he offered her his arms to walk and in a steady pace they made their way thru the busy palace. Sansa smiled up at him warm and open.

He loved her. “Do you want to take a walk thru the new winter gardens or are you tired?”, he asked her soft, almost inaudible in the chatter of the court. Sansa shook her head liking her lips: “I am tired, Jon.” Her voice was melodic. “I would love to walk the gardens with my husband but being with child is very tiresome. Will you bring me to our room and sit a bit with me?”

Jon tucked a stray strand of red hair behind her ear, brushing her beautiful skin in the process and lingering a bit longer than it was strictly necessary. He could respect that in the state she was right now with the babe Sansa had no mind for passion and her safety was above all else, but he missed the only way to be close to her.

Sometimes Sansa would just retread in a shell of politeness without telling him her true feelings and sorrows. It was infuriating, but he had no right to her mind and the only way he felt truly connected to her some days, was by kissing every inch of her skin and make her sigh his name.

He sat her down in a pretty armchair by their fireplace and took a seat on the thick carpet next to it. “Jon? What are you doing on the floor?”, she asked with laughter in her voice. How he yearned to hear her laugh. “I’ve missed spending time with you alone, you know?”, he said conversational as he starred into the flames. The warmth of the flames on his face were a welcome distraction.

“I don’t want to sound ungrateful.”, she answered, “but a part of my wishes us back to the time when it was you, me and Arya in Winterfell. It was so much easier back than and I miss her.”

Jon rose and placed a delicate kiss on her forehead while his imagination made a full-blown kiss out of the soft contact. He wanted her to love him back. It hurt to go on like this. He was so close to her physically, but never emotionally. And it wore his resistance short. Sansa was a good friend, a great sister and a dutiful wife. Why could he just tell her how he felt?

“I will step out for a moment. See you later.”

Jon was leaving to go back to the chambers he shared with Sansa when he was stopped by a member of the Queens Guard. “Lord Consort. The Queen sends for you.” So, Jon suppressed a sigh and followed. What else was he to do? But to his annoyance he was not brought to one of the Queens drawing rooms but to her bed chambers.

As he reluctantly entered, he found Daenerys in bed with the pretty dornish maid. The servant girl was naked and Daenerys, only wearing a sheer night gown herself kissed her neck as she played with her cunt. It took all of Jon’s will power not to yell at her. This was a ridiculous scheme.

Daenerys bit the girl’s soft skin and she moaned just to whine when the Queen stopped touching her. Slow and seductively she got up her silver hair lose as she swung her hips with every step she took. Jon felt a headache crawl up to him. He didn’t have the patience for this. “Hello Jon.” Purring she was all over him. Her hands on his chest, his neck. “I trust you want to join us. I am longing for a good fuck and if memory serves right _you_ -“

He shoved her away. Not caring that she could kill him or ruin his life in countless other ways he couldn’t even imagine right now, but even if he wanted her, he could not do it. Even if he would not be in love with his wife, he was still married, and he could not do it. No, this had to stop.

“You know that you could have a lot of fun with me.”, Daenerys didn’t seem to be irritated by his unwillingness to partake. Maybe she thought he was playing hard to get. He had no mind to entertain her in her delusions. “Don’t look so sullen, nephew.” Daenerys took a walk around him. “I could send for your pretty wife if that is what you like. Gods know I want to have a taste of that one for years now. You were right the first time around, you know?” She squeezed his butt not waiting for a reaction, as she moved to face him again. “She has always been a beauty.”

Gritting his teeth, Jon took a step back, away from her, from her unruly hands. “Stay away from Sansa! She is nothing but respectful to you since you’ve won the throne. You have no right to hurt her like-“

“I have _every_ right!”, she didn’t quiet scream, but it was close. “I am your Queen. I am _her_ Queen. You know why I made you marry her?”, she didn’t wait for him to answer. “You have always loved her, didn’t you? Your pretty, _little sister_. After I was free of my own- _infatuation_ with your boring self- it was quite clear, and I don’t know how I didn’t notice earlier. You are more like me, like a Targaryen than you care to admit. Believing her to be your sister, never stopped you from wanting her.”

Jon didn’t know what to answer to that. She was right but he didn’t want to give her that victory. Didn’t want to relive the self-hatred he felt when he couldn’t deny his love anymore. Daenerys was good at pointing things like this out. “But now you are married to her, you lay with her and she has your children, but it is not the real thing, right? She fucks you for duty and sure she loves you, but not like you _need_ her too.”

She was all over him again. Grabbing, touching, invading his privacy. “It is funny, you know how easy it was to trap you in your own personal hell.” Jon scoffed, a soft sound, for a harsh emotion. “All of this Dany, for what? Because I couldn’t love you?”

“You didn’t love me, you _tricked_ me, lied to me. Laughed about the feelings I harbored for you in private, while you had only eyes for her!” There were tears filling her eyes, glittering treacherously. “ _I loved you,_ Jon! You are the only family I have left and gods, I wanted you so bad! Did you think about Sansa when you fucked me? When you kissed me? When you told me that you loved me?”

“I never told you, that I loved you… I never out right lied…”, he whispered. It was the truth, but it didn’t make him feel less dirty about the way he had used her. “No, you just let me believe that I had finally someone to love me for myself and not my power or beauty. I was going insane thinking that you were already fucking Sansa while you played with my feelings. I was obsessed with the idea that you would laugh about me after you fucked her good.”

“Stop talking about her like this.”, he roared just like she had so many times. He hated how she was right. About everything. He had been in Love with Sansa maybe from the moment he had seen her again at Castle Black. And he was Daenerys kin. Part of the reason why he could not stand her, was that she was everything he tried not to be.

“You could come to bed with me and the lovely Arthane or you could watch and see how I seduce your precious Sansa.”

He turned away from her, from her empty treats. Daenerys sighed theatrical. “Ser Marques.”, she called for the handsome knight of her Queens Guard. Before he could answer her, she shoved her tongue down his throat, leaving him groaning in pleasure. “I trust you are talented enough to satisfy us both.”

Sansa looked down at her loose dress and sighed. She wished to wear something more to her house colors, but the pale-yellow dress had to do it. Her boys looked adorable in silver jerkins and shining shoes. And Jon looked absolutely stunning in his Stark color clothes. She wished she could just kiss him senseless right here right now. The pregnancy and the journey south hadn’t left them with much room alone or their marital duties. (Not that she had the courage to actually kiss him again) She had to say she enjoyed it now. It had taken years and a good man, but she actually enjoyed sex.

And she couldn’t get enough of Jon. Gods, she wanted him so much, even though every time he didn’t kiss her good night afterwards was a knife in her heart. She loved him and she was married to him. But no matter how dutiful he was, how faithful to her, he would never love her, not the way she loved him.

They made their way down to the little chapel that was built into the keep after the war. A symbol to the faith that the Queen would always have space for the gods in her home and a place of worship while the Great Sept was being rebuild. It was packed full in the relatively small room as the stained glass drew patterns on the guests. Sansa took her place next to the other heads of the great houses, between Dorian Martell and her uncle in front of the guests. On a stage right in front of the seven-pointed star Sweetrobin was waiting in front of the High Septon.

Next up Daenerys walked in and assumed her place among them. She wore a long sleeved, high collared red dress. On her head throned the heavy black dragon crown and she wore a ring from the same metal with a ruby. A gift to her name day a year back from the Freys. The jewel was supposed to be of the amor of Rhaegar. You scarcely saw her without it these days.

Sasha was being escorted into the chapel by her uncle, one of the only surviving male members of their family. Glyn Frey was in his midlife and needed to use a cane thanks to a nasty back injury. Sasha Frey was a plain girl compared to beauties like Lorna Lannister and Quenra Lannister, but she was devoted in her faith and an exquisite dancer and conversationist. The court loved her and that had been the main reason for her to be chosen to marry into a Great house, even thought that gave the Freys a high status.

Robert didn’t seem to be so enchanted by his wife to be like the rest of the nobles. Sansa scarcely talked to the girl, but she seemed nice enough.

Today she wore a flowing snow-white dress, with flowers stitched to the bodice. The heavy cloak with her family sigil hanging from her shoulders. The ceremony was long and exhausting for all participants. Sansa had to sit down a few times. One of the septons had fetched her a stool sometime in, not wanting a pregnant Lady to overdo herself. She appreciated it.

Finally, the bride spoke the words: “With this kiss I pledge my love and take you for my lord and husband.” Followed by a pained answer from Robin: “With this kiss I pledge my love and take you for my lady and wife” The kiss that ensued was more than painful to watch in it’s awkwardness. Robin needed a second try to cloak his wife. And so, there was the feast.

Sansa was sitting with her boys while Jon conversed with Sam and Talla some way down the long table. Robb was squeeze since she forbade him to play before he finished his meal. He wanted to go play hide and seek with Sam Dickon and Edmure. And he didn’t see his mother’s point why he needed to eat now when there was always food when he was hungry anyway.

Sansa sighed at this. The sweet summer children knew nothing of war and hunger. She wished it could stay like this all their lives. She wanted to know them safe and sound, away from harm, but that was not how the world worked.

So, since she couldn’t do much else with the little one in her belly, Sansa just sat and watched the court celebrate. From time to time Gilly or Talla or even Sam would come to keep her company. Rhae would be with them, a few times hiding from the other boys under the table or just needing a break from the others. He sometimes needed a few moments away from loud chatter to compose himself and Sansa was more than ready to give him the security he needed.

“Mother. I finished all up. You see?”

Robb held up his empty plate to show his mother that he had indeed eaten the food. “Can I go play, now? Please?”, he asked.

“Sure, Love.”, she sighed, “But take care of your brother please.” He nodded and sprinted away. Edmure and Sam were trying to teach Dickon to count properly. It didn’t go that well, so they decided that Sam and Dickon would build a team as they were playing, seeking together. Edmure asked Jamie if he wanted to play but Quenra shot him a venomous look and the boy said no with a sad expression on his face. But when his mother was distracted, he snuck of with four giggling boys.

Sansa cranked her neck to look for her youngest, as Jon was taking the seat next to her again. He placed an arm around her shoulder and Sansa had to suppress a shudder. It was so good to have him near. “How are you feeling?”, he hushed in her ear all low and soft. Gods, why was he like that?

Finally, she spotted Rhae sitting with Lysa in a corner. The older girl was holding a book she read with much difficulty and a finger to the text, but her son listened happily anyway. The twins on the other hand seemed bored out of their mind. Sansa wondered if Lysa cared that her sisters wanted to play anything else or was she too fed up with looking after them that she didn’t care?

Either way Rhae was safe and sound poking his first cousin (once removed) with questions about her reading and how her education was going. Sansa could relax into Jon’s touch.

“Good so far.”, she murmured back, shifting her head so, that her lips were brushing his as she spoke. “I just don’t like this whole ordeal.” He was as soft as ever and smelling of ale and leather. She could just kiss him. She saw the way he was looking at her right now. His eyes were so imposable grey. It would be so easy to tell him that she loved him. Gods, she needed to talk to someone about this. Someone that was not Jon or her children or fucking Daenerys. She needed a friend. Sansa wished Brienne was here right now.

The trusty knight would listen to her dilemma. She would understand and maybe give her the confidence she needed. When it came to Jon, Sansa felt so insecure as a child again. She hated that feeling but it was a sign of how fragile her feelings were.

She was afraid because Jon meant everything to her.

Their children meant everything.

If she confessed and he rejected her for good, what did that do to her darling boys? No, this was not about her needs. Everything for her children. They needed their mother and father equally. It was not fair to alienate Jon in any way. There was her decision.

Everything was fine like this. So, why change anything?

She took a final breath of his warm mouth before angling her face away. She was weak she knew, but Jon was home.

Turning just in time to witness the next act of whatever play this whole event was. Sansa was tired and vaguely sick. She hoped it had nothing to do with the babe.

“My Queen.” Robert bowed once to Daenerys sitting in the center, the table moved away to make room for him. She didn’t say anything to him, just stretched her hand out for him to kiss. Hissing he obliged only for her to lower her hand again and again and again.

When Robert Arryn was bending to her feet, straining from the longevity of his tournament she finally let him ease. “Never cross me again. I am the state.”

“I am certain our newlyweds are tired and ready for the final part of their wedding.”, she clapped her hands, smiling almost manically so.

“The bedding ceremony.”

Sansa was ready to stay in her nice seat and watch the children play and maybe eat the rest of her lemon cake, but again the Queen had other plans. “Sansa, love. please, join us.” “I would love to your majesty, but as you see it may be not the best thing for us right now.”

Daenerys turned to her again, the smile still in place but it was stiff. Fake. The Queen didn’t like to be told no and Sansa should know better than this by now. “Of course it will be in my strength to come with, if it pleases her majesty.” Sansa took Daenerys hand to be let were the other woman were disrobing Robin. Lorna Lannister was watching her cousin’s wife be way too into the task for a married woman.

Sansa looked back were the men were harassing the poor Frey girl. She was young and innocent and deserved better. She hoped that Jon and Sam would keep other people like Tyrion or Dorian at bay.

Robin was down to his small clothes when they pushed him to the door of their marital chambers. Sasha was let in next only wearing a sheer night gown. Her hazel eyes were glassy and her elaborate braid undone. But Daenerys didn’t seem to want to end Sweetrobins humiliation. She stepped into the room after them and smiled bright. “Usually it would be uncustomary to disturb the newlywed like this, but I don’t entirely trust lord Arryn to do right by his wife. So, I would invite some of my fellow ladies in to witness with me?”

Sansa prayed that she would not be asked. Because the last thing she wanted with a hurting back and tired feet was watching her weird cousin having sex for the first time (probably).

“Lady Lorna, Lady Quenra.”

Lorna didn’t seem to be thrilled by the notion of seeing this either and Sansa was almost glad.

Almost feeling safe.

“And of course, my lovely Sansa.”

Of course.

Why should it be anything else?

She forced a smile on her face. “If it pleases her majesty.”

Sansa stepped in. Lorna and Quenra behind her. Roslin Frey watched her kin with a troubled look on her face. The door closed in her face. Sansa felt a cold stone drop in her stomach. This was not what she wanted to do. She did not wish to be part of this poor girls humiliation. “I have to give my apologize to the young Lady Arryn.”, Daenerys purred in the girl direction. “I hope you can see why I don’t trust your husband to do his duty as it is asked of him.”

And then when the young people where still standing next to each other motionless, she threw a light “Go on then.”, after them. Like the Queen watching them would make their first time any better or more successful. Sansa’s pity for Sweetrobin and his wife only grew. What Daenerys was doing to them was cruel and would only result in them despising each other and her.

But it was Sasha who took a shaky breath and took to Robert to kiss him. She was on her tiptoes and it was really just the ghost of a kiss brushing their dry lips together. Robin for his part did nothing, impartial to his wife’s touch, like a stature.

Sansa suppressed a sigh. This would be a long night indeed.

Robin still didn’t react as Sasha was pressing him onto the bed and climbed on top of him. She opened her braid than and her hazel hair fell over her shoulder, while some unruly stands framed her face rather prettily.

[SKIP TO STAY SAFE]

No one in the room appreciated her prettiness thought. She dragged a hand over Robins clothed chest while she rocked her hips experimental. He just watched her bored, when he wasn’t watching the Ladies behind her. “What is it you want, my lord?”, Sasha asked with a thin shaky voice. Gods in heaven, let this be over quick.

At that Robin shoved her off rather violently, switching positions with her and pinning the poor girl to the bed. “What I want, doesn’t matter, I am afraid.”, he hissed as he grabbed her by the throat and turned her around so that her head was at the foot end of the bed. Robin’s eyes bored into Daenerys as he undid his breaches and penetrated the poor girl dry.

“What our Queen wants me to do, is fuck you so, that you can bare me an heir as she ordered us to do two years ago.”, he spat with venom in his voice. He was behaving like he would during a temper tantrum, but Robin was not a boy anymore that cried and shrieked for people to be thrown of a mountain. He was a grown man, with power and regrettably violence.

When did her sickly cousin become so cruel? Sansa was not sure but somewhere along the way Robin had grown bitter and vile. Considering how much time he had spent with Littlefinger was it really a surprise? Or was it a sad prophecy come true?

Sansa looked away as she could not bear the scene like it was. It made her sick.

It made her remember things that were buried deep in her conscious.

There was not much to do as stark nausea washed over Sansa that made her want to throw up right then and there. But this was no place, so she steadied herself and focused on a regular breathing. Was it time so soon?

Sasha fought back, when her cries and the slapping sound was anything to go by, but no one helped her. Not even the Queen that prided herself as a savior of girls and woman. She did just watch as Robin swallowed Sasha’s whines with a bruising kiss and pushed into her a last time before he came.

Then he rolled from her and put on a blue robe.

[SAFE TO READ AGAIN]

Calmly Daenerys walked over to him as Sasha was sitting in a corner of the bed and making herself small while her sobbing was clearly heard. It broke Sansa’s heart. She had done nothing like a villain in a story, watched the girl being brutalized. The Queen slept Robin once square in the face. And when he grinned at her, she did it again.

“You have fulfilled your duty but if I ever see you rape a woman again, you are dead.”

“Why only then?”, he asked almost cocky but the tears on his face betrayed him. “Was one girl not important enough? Or are your orders and pride more important than a girls wellbeing-?“

Daenerys fumed. Her eyes glinted dangerously, with hot anger. But Sansa knew in her heart, that Robin was right in a way. Dany had ordered them to consummate their marriage. Robin had done as he was told. In the worst way possible.

Once upon a time, when Daenerys were a girl, she was raped by her husband too. But as far as Sansa could tell the Queen had twisted that experience in her head, tainted with the Love she later claimed to feel for that same man and in some way she believed it had made her stronger.

How could all of them have lost their way like this? How could they all just accept the rules as they were without trying to change anything. Didn’t Daenerys promise change in her reign? There was nothing of those empty words here all was awful.

All was the same.

But Sansa never thought she would push her games this far. There could be so many women in power, their society did not change and heirs were more important than their mothers and sisters. It was still all the same.

Would this cruel world ever change?

There was no time for her to dwell on it, as the nausea she had felt earlier came back with a vengeance and Sansa almost collapsed on the floor. She could seat herself on a stool before her world went black.

Jon burst to the doors of Daenerys bed chamber the real ones, the Kings wide bed. Sansa was laying there in blood and gore and sweat. But she was alive. Would it be this tense? This unbearable every time she was pregnant? Would the fear of losing her in childbirth be there every time he would feel her belly swell? Would it taint the joy every time without fail?

Sansa smiled as she saw him. Bright. Like the sun breaking to storm clouds. “Jon.”, she motioned for him to sit by her side. “It is a girl.”, there was her beautiful laugh. „Just like our boys wanted.” He felt her happiness get ahold of his heart too. On an impulse he kissed her hair over and over again. The girl had dark hair like him, like Robb but her eyes shone an ire hue of violet, giving away her valerian heritage.

There was a knock and Nelly put her head thru the door to shot them a questioning look. On Sansa’s command a handmaiden worked fast to get rid of the bloodied sheets and cover everything up. Next thing they knew Robb came running in Rhae clutching to his hand as a drowning man to a lifeline. “Mother are you alright?”, Robbs dark grey eyes were round with concern, but Sansa just smiled at him and caressed his face. “I am tired little one, but we are both okay.”

Robb strained on his tiptoes to look at the babe. “She is just as you two wanted her to be.” A smile so big it almost split is head in two appeared on Robbs face as he made room for his brother to look. Rhae was a little shy. “Like a doll.”, he mumbled as Jon took him up to his arms.

Jon’s heart swelled at the sight of his family. The boys were fascinated by the little girl they hadn’t named yet. It was a bit like their family had been serval lifetimes ago. Aching he banned the thoughts of his deceased brothers – cousins. It had little place in this happy moment.

“Sansa! I see you are well.”

Jon really had it with Daenerys. Gods, he wished they could just go back north and not see her for the next ten years. (Not that this was possible but a man could dream)

“Yes, my Queen.”, Sansa smiled the sweet and very fake smile he had seen on her so often when it came to their sovereign. “May I present you our daughter? It may please her majesty to know that the babe has indeed Targaryen features as well.”

“She is a glorious beauty, my sweet Lady.”. Daenerys smiled at them, drinking in the girl. “Have you decided on a name yet?” Daenerys asked mildly interested. “Actually.”, Sansa shifted to sit up straighter. “I thought about naming her after you, your majesty. If my husband agrees of course.”

Jon blinked.

And tried to contain his annoyance as he looked back at Sansa. But to his suffering his wife was dead serious. Daenerys on the other hand might just split her face in half with how wide her smile grew. “Another Daenerys Targaryen?” “Yes.”, Sansa said softly, “If you would give us your blessing.”

“I would love to!” She held onto Sansa’s hand and discreetly shoved Jon out of the way a bit. “It is decided then.”

Robb on the other hand knitted his brows in disagreement. “You can’t have the same name. That is confusing.” He turned to face the Queen and elaborated. “We call you Dany because Dae’yris- is too hard! When my baby sister has your name, we can’t call her Dany too.” Rhae thought a moment and then nodded. “What Robb said.” Sansa was quick to intervene. “What if we give our Daenerys another nick name? So, we won’t confuse the two?”

That left the boys thinking. “We call our girl Doro.”, Rhae smiled at them and Jon almost laughed out loud. Doro was how Rhae had called their Master of Arms elderly Dog Dolores when he first started to talk, but the Queen did not know that.

“That sounds nice.” Daenerys waved the boys closer to her. Before you two will leave again with your mother and new sister, I have presents for you.” She called in servants bearing two animals made from cloth filled with sheep wool. For Robb she had a white direwolf with red glass as eyes. The boy gasped. “Look Papa! Like Ghost!”

Rhae squirmed wanting to see his gift too. Dany passed him a green dragon, with scales stitched to him and black glass eyes. The kids didn’t know that, but it was a cute reimagined version of Rhaegal; the dragon that Daenerys lost first, who was named after her brother and Rhae’s name sake. Finally, she brought in a dragon that was issued in similar fashion as the green one except that it was lavender in color with yellow eyes. The children said their thanks, hugged their aunt and left Sansa and Doro to rest in peace.


	4. Catelyn Stark

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Everything is going to be alright, Sam.”, Robb’s voice was a hushed whisper, but his mother recognized it immediately. There was the rustling of fabrics as there was not much conversation. Sansa was not sure what to do. She did want to know if the boys were fine, but she didn’t want to intrude into their private moment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, I finally figured out what I wanted to do for this one scene here. I hope I dont break your hearts lol

“Jon.”, Sansa breathed into his ear, as she dragged a hand thru his tossed hair. “I want another child.”

Then she rolled over giggling. Jon for his part was relatively awake now after that little game. It was early in the morning and the sun was but a flicker on the horizon. But Jon had awoken out of habit quite early and his wife was not the one to sleep in anymore.

That being said, none of them were really in the mood to start the day in earnest and first and foremost, leave their warm bed. So, Jon rolled after Sansa propping himself up, as to not get his weight on her. “You can’t just say something like this and than-“, he paused a moment “roll away like a wheel.”

Sansa grinned up to him, blue eyes cringed in bemusement, fire hair fanned out on the sheets, breath takingly beautiful. “That was an awful comparison.” Bell like laughter filled the room, as she camped thru his hair a second time, pondering. “We should cut your hair soon.”

“First you insult my poetic way to talk to you.”, he kissed her neck at that, drinking in the soft feeling of her skin. “Then you insult my hair.” He continued by nibbling on her jaw. “What a cruel wife you are, Sansa Stark.”

“Oh yes, I am the worst.”, she sighed as he sucked on her collar bone and watched her suck in her lower lip, satisfied by her reaction. “May I?”, he asked and when she nodded, he continued his quest to kiss every inch of her body. Her breasts, his cute little tummy, her thighs and her hips. And finally, her-

“Mama!”, Robbs voice made Jon crawl up from his wife’s private parts in the speed of light. “Robb! Wait for Rhae.” Rhaegar seemed to be on his brother’s toes. As Robb jumped on the bed between them and Rhae was struggling to pull himself up to them, Jon thanked the gods for small mercies that Doro was only a few months old and could not barge into their room.

(Why did Brienne let them enter in the first place?)

Robb saw that his little brother struggled and went back to help, just for both of them to snuggle back between them. “Mama.”, Rhae trained a serious look on her and then on him. “Papa.” Jon could not help himself but ruffle thru his fine hair. “All Doro does is cry and eat and sleep…”

“And shit!”, Robb supplied unhelpfully. Sansa shot him a dark glare and the boy shoved his mouth shut instantly. “Robb Stark hold your tongue.”, she hissed. “Yes, Mother.”, and then more softly. “But I am right.”

At that Jon snickered and Sansa thru a pillow after him halfheartedly. Rhae for his part pouted and crossed his little arms. “I want a sister to play with.”, he complained. “Well small children don’t do much else at this age.”

She threw her feet over the edge of the bed. “And now please get all out. I want to get dressed.”

Sansa looked down on her beautiful baby daughter. Doro was around half a year now. They were sitting in one of the drawing rooms of the keep. Robb tried to learn how to draw letters as he followed the letters of his name that Sansa scribbled on a piece of paper for him. He was lying on the floor, tongue trapped between his teeth in a very adorable manner.

Rhae was sitting near him, cuddled up against Ghost. He was playing with little wooden wolfs on the floor. The little Dragon he was gifted by the Queen sat near him. These days nobody saw the young boy without it. Sure, ‘Dragon’ was not the most creative name for a cloth Dragon, but since Rhae was very young when he got the gift no one said anything about it.

“Mother?”, Robb had run over to her and was watching his little sister with warmth in his eyes. “How did you feel when Aunty Arya was born?”

Sansa smiled at him. “When we were young Arya and I didn’t get along at all.”, she said serious. “You see, we are very different people and when we were girls, we fought a lot because of it.”

Rhae had stopped playing with his little figurines and gave the impression, that he was listening too. Robb’s gazed up in an adorable manner he used when he did not understand something at all. Given his age this was a lot of times. “Why would you be mean to each other just because she liked other thing? That is stupid.”

“I agree.”, she smiled at him. “We fought about a lot of stupid and meaningless things. Things that I used to thing were way more import than they actually are-”

Robb didn’t answer immediately. He gave Doro his little finger to hold on to with her little hand. And when she ogled up to him with round purple eyes, he smiled even brighter. “Why wouldn’t you just find things you both like?”, he asked eventually.

“Rhae loves fairy tales and I think they are boring and Rhae doesn’t like ridding while I can’t wait to finally learn or just watch Papa-” A pause. “We just try to do things we both like. It not that hard.”

Sansa taped his little nose with her fingers. “Arya always liked to do things that girls are not supposed to like, and she hated doing things that girls are supposed to like, while I liked doing them. So, we fought a lot.”

“Things girls are supposed to like? What are those?”, he looked positively puzzled. “Why is it even a thing?”

Sansa laughed: “For example little Ladies are not supposed to run around and play in the gardens like you and Rhae do. Girls are supposed to learn how to do needle work or sing and dance.”

“That sounds boring.”, Robb declared, while Rhae shook his head franticly. “Dancing is fun, Robb. I like to dance.” Rhae got up and tippled over to them as well. “Will Doro learn how to dance? Can we help her with it?”

“If you like.”, Sansa smiled at him. “If you like you can learn to dance too.”

Jon entered than and her boys were eager for their father to sit down and tell them stories as well. He was vanishing into furs, so that Sansa barley saw his face. Snow still clung to his boots and melted slowly in the warmth of the hearth.

“Papa, is it true that Mama and Aunty Arya did fight as children?”

Jon scrunched his nose up his dark grey eyes illuminated by the flames. Sansa watched him as he took a seat on a chair beside hers. He paused a moment.

“Yes, when we were young, they did, but I can tell you for sure they love each other very, very much.”

Rhae and Robb looked at each other for a moment and then both were focusing on their baby sister. When they came into her field of vision, Doro babbled a bit happily and the boys felt utterly proud that they had managed to make their sister smile.

“When we were all young, Arya and I would constantly sneak out to play in the gods wood, we would just find sticks that kind of looked like swords and play war games or later when Ghost and Nymeria were with us we would play as if we were wolves too and would follow them around and tried to hear what the wolves hear. Sometimes Robb would come with us and we would play hide and seek in the trees and Bran would come and climb threes, while Robb and I would shout up to him not to go too far up.”

Sansa watched Jon with a wistful glint in her eyes, as he told his stories. She wished she had spent more time with her siblings as they were all young and careless. Now, it was only her and Jon left in Winterfell and every reminder of Robb and Rickon was a stab to her heart and every reminder of Bran who was so absent and cold and who she would never see again stung and she worried Arya would never find her way home again.

She watched as Rhae and Robb listened to stories of their childhood, their little heads heavy with sleep and their eyes barley open. She looked down to Doro who was breathing in deep and regular patterns as she slept in her mother’s arms. Sansa snuck her closer to her heart. Naming her after Daenerys had been a try to please the Queen after Sansa had blacked out at the Wedding. She ached with love for her deceased mother and the regret not to have named the little one after her.

It was a lovely evening here by the fire with her family and Sansa wished she could stop worrying about politics and just take a moment to appreciate, truly appreciate what she had now.

She had Jon and three beautiful children, but Sansa wanted more, she realized with a bitter smile. She always had wanted more than she had, didn’t she? No, she wanted to fill the halls of Winterfell with as many Starks as she was capable of bearing.

She would rebuild her family with Jon.

Sansa came into his study in the late afternoon, walking to the unlooked a joint door between their chambers. Her bare feet hit the floor almost soundless. Not that Jon would have heard her anyway, he was way too focused on the letters he was reading.

When she put her arms around him and kissed his neck, he almost jumped. Delighted by his reaction, she giggled into his soft skin. And without giving him a moment to recover, she darted her tongue out to lick the sensitive skin there; she was rewarded with a nice shiver.

“What are you doing, Sansa?”, Jon asked, his voice hoarse. She loved to hear his voice like this, all deep and husky and wanting. Wanting her. Putting quick fingers in his hair again she pulled a bit, having it on the edge of being hurtful. Jon bit his lip, groaning. Very aware now what his wife wanted from him. “What do you think I’m doing?”

He wanted to say something, Sansa sensed it in the way his mouth parted, but she had other plans as to let him talk today. She made her way around the chair to seat herself on his lap. Humming against his skin, she kissed his neck, again. Without missing a beat, she shuffled with the buttons of his jacket and stripped it off him, burring her face in the exposed skin between his neck and shoulder. Like this she could inhale his sweat scent. Straightening herself again, she looked into his eyes. They were blown wide and dark with lust and something told her that she didn’t look any different, but it was the least of her concerns.

“Sansa.”, he murmured her name against her skin as he kissed his way from her face to her collar bone, only to stop and nibble the skin there. “Is it really a good idea to do this in the middle of my study?” She smiled into his skin, giddy and wanting. “Of course, I have locked the door.”, she whispered into him.

He wanted to kiss her then. Kiss her earnest and proper, to kiss her so she would forget anything except him. He wanted to kiss her into oblivion, but he hesitated and, in the end, did not so. He smiled up at her wistfully and brushed her fire hair aside, trailing his hand down her neck, her side and kept it on her hip.

“Are you sure?”, he asked even though he already felt his own interest perk up. Gods, even after years of marriage she was able to make him feel like a young boy in love. “Yes.”, she breathed into his ear as she brushed over the rim of his breeches. “Yes. Yes, yes, yes.” He sucked in a sharp breath.

She kissed his temple, as she lowered herself onto him, the feeling of his cock inside of her was so good, she took a moment to appreciate the feeling. Then she started to rock her hips, painfully slow and delicious. 

Jon ran his thump over Sansa’s bottom lip. It was a painfully tender gesture as the made love. He smiled up at her, with his dark eyes and she suppressed a moan. Jon had other plans with her. He parted her lips assertive but slow. “I want to hear you, love.”

That let a shudder go to her body. She grew to love it when Jon took control of the situation. He always made sure that she was left satisfied and gods, did it feel good to be spoiled by the person she loved most.

“What exactly do you want to hear?”, she asked coyly. Then she elevated her hips slow and watched Jon’s face carefully as his cock slide out of her cunt. As she started to slide down again, he grabbed her and met her hips with his midway. Quick and delicious. She hissed, needing more.

Jon put his hands on his mid, lifting her up, he sat her on his table, and she whined embarrassingly at the loss of skin to skin contact. He chuckled into her hair as he kissed her head a few times and then her nose, her cheeks. “I want you to be nice and loud for me, Sansa.”

He kissed the corner of her mouth. “Promise that you won’t hold back, love.” Sansa nodded with a small smile on her face. And Jon was promptly rewarded with a moan as he entered her again. He speeded up a bit after that, leaving her no time to recover or think and she was so grateful not to have to think.

Sansa put his legs around Jon tugging him closer, deeper, deeper inside of her. She hummed happily as the familiar feeling of him inside of her washed over her. She teared at his shoulders, needing more skin to touch, needed her husband closer. Jon knew exactly what she wanted, even though she did not say anything out loud.

“It is alright, Sansa. I will be faster in a bit. I just-“, He put his hand on her throat, feeling her erratic pulse. She bit her lip, and helplessly gasped as she remembered his earlier request. “Jon, please.”, she bagged, “I need you to go harder- I-“, Another moan that could have made him come right there. “I am so close, please, please.”

Tighten the grip around her neck he obliged. Sansa couldn’t stop the dirty things leaving her mouth even when she was in a mindset to try to shut up. Jon’s name was on her lips like a prayer.

If anyone had told the little girl she once was that sex could be so good, she would have scoffed at the. The Sansa that had been wed to Tyrion would have never let a man touch her like this. Not to imagine I enjoy it the way she did now.

She watched Jon’s face, his lips parted slightly in a small grown and as she bended down to kiss him there, he came and instead she pushed him deeper inside of her to ride his high with him.

“Father, can you see them yet?”, Robb was sitting atop of Ghost Rhae behind him, clutching to his brother’s little form. Dragon was trapped between the boys, near Rhae’s heart. Jon for his part smiled up to him. “Robb, you have a higher position. Really, I should ask you, if you see them yet?” There was bemusement in his voice.

“No. I don’t see much...”, he called as loud as he could, “Just Snow and even more snow. Is Mother coming soon too?” Just as he asked that Sansa came into view behind them, her face and hair hidden behind a dark fur coat and a smile on her lips that made Jon’s stomach crunch with Lust and Love, as he remembered their little love making session yesterday.

“Boys, can you see them yet?”, she asked, but Robb just shook his head his locks bouncing with the motion under the hood he was wearing. “I don’t wanna wait anymore.”, Rhae’s voice was whiny and high pitched. He had not slept this afternoon. “I want to play with Sam and Dickon!”

Sansa sighed and opened her arms, for her boy to glide into. “If you want, I can hold you a bit or you can go inside and wait with Nelly and septa Salma.” Mumbling he burrowed his face in the Small of her neck. “Noooo. I wanna wait with you. Rhae is a big boy.”

Sansa kissed his little head at that and there was adoration in her deep blue eyes. “Yes, you and Robb are my big boys.” Jon watched them and his heart swelled. He loved them all so, so much. How and when did he got so lucky? He was married and had children he loved more than himself. Once when he was a young man going to join the Nights Watch he would have never guessed that he would end up here all those years later.

It was strange like that.

He remembered a time where he did close all those wishes for family and belonging away his longing to see his own children grow to become a brother of the night’s watch. He remembered the hardship but also the friendship and camaraderie he had with boys and men long dead. He remembered learning from the old Bear and from wise Maester Aemon, the lonely Dragon.

He wondered if the Maester knew of his true parentage or if he sensed it. Or if it was just the irony to have his blood right under his nose while he still mourned his family?

Above them Robb gasped. “I see horses!” and then after semi audible counting. “Four of them.” And just as the child climbed down from the dire wolf, the promised horses came thru the gates of Winterfell. Atop sat Sam and Dicken and on the other an eight-year-old little Sam and his very pregnant mother. The remaining two horses were mount by Tarly men.

Sam didn’t come to greet them right away he first made sure Gilly was okay. When everyone was fine and good, the family came over to them, Robb was meeting them halfway. “Gilly can I try to feel your baby later? I remember when Doro was-“ He stopped, turned to Sam and Dicken and “Do you think you get a little sister too?”

Sam was ready to debate the pros and cons of having a sister, while his little brother looked up to their mother with round eyes: “Do you know if we are getting a sister, Mama?”

But Gilly could not answer as Sam ushered his family inside after embracing the Starks as the cold was not good for his pregnant wife.

Sansa had the kitchen prepare a nice meal for their guest and the boys had been giddily all day because they wanted to see their friends again. As they all sat in the small hall just the eight of them and a handful of castle personnel, Robb just digged into the deer stew.

Sansa smiled at Gilly, taking her hand across the table. “I am so glad to see you again. How have you guys been? Rhae talked about the book he wants Sam to read them for weeks now.” Her fingers run smooth circles on her friend’s skin. “I am not allowed to read; it has to be Sam.”

“How are you feeling?”, Sansa asked then. “How is your child?” Gilly put her spoon away and touched her belly unconsciously. She was in her fourth month if the curve of her stomach was anything to go by and Sansa was excited for their friends.

Gilly sighed. “I am fine so far, I had hoped that some cold, northern air would help me feel better. I-“, she struggled with her words. “I haven’t been great lately. I am no southern lady and the other nobles know, Gods! I know!”

“You don’t have to let them get to you, Gilly. I know that-“

“Sam stop talking over me! I can't be there anymore. Sometimes I just want to go home-“

“Home where? To your _father_?”

Gasping Gilly jumped up and stomped out of the room into the rooms the Stark had readied for the Tarlys. Sansa watched a tired looking Sam and gestured to a servant to prepare a second guest room for Sam.

The four boys just looked at each other sadly and for the rest of the meal they were eerily quiet. Sansa’s heart broke for them. It must be hard to see one’s parents fight with so much open anger. It must hurt. Sansa saw how Robb took Sam’s hand under the table, trying clumsily to sooth the older boy.

As the weird dinner came to a close the Septa that accompanied the Tarly boys ushered them to their room and Sansa made sure her boys were going to bed too as the day had been long and tiring. She had to talk to Sam and Gilly tomorrow. If the woman really felt so homesick for beyond the wall, what could they do to make her feel better? What could make her feel at home south?

Jon came to walk next to her, and she took his hand out of habit and leaned into his steady form. It was reassuring that she would not be alone with the problem, that she would never be alone with difficulties anymore. She had Jon, now and forever.

“Do you think we can help?”, Jon asked into her ear, his wet breath caressing her skin. She suppressed a shudder. There was a place and a time for those things. “I think we must find a place for them to talk in peace…”

Jon nodded grimly.

That was how their day ended.

Sansa woke in the middle of the night, with a weird feeling dropping her stomach. There was no particular reason for her to be awake, since the night was quiet and warm, and Jon was sleeping soundly next to her.

But there was a feeling nagging at her; a nervous energy that made it impossible for her to settle back into the sheets. So, she took a deep breath and climbed out as quietly as she could.

Not thinking much about it she put one of Jon’s cloaks over her nightgown and tip toed out of her room. Her hair was falling down her back messily and her feet were bare, but the floor was not that cold.

As she closed the door behind her, she heard voices coming from one of the drawing room further down the corridor. Overcome with curiosity she made her way to its door to listen in.

“Everything is going to be alright, Sam.”, Robb’s voice was a hushed whisper, but his mother recognized it immediately. There was the rustling of fabrics as there was not much conversation. Sansa was not sure what to do. She did want to know if the boys were fine, but she didn’t want to intrude into their private moment.

But she needed to check if the children were okay. So, in the end she opened the that was not clicked into the lock, ever so slowly to make no sound. The scene that opened to her was Robb that heled a quietly sobbing Sam. Dickon and Rhae were sitting next to them, with grave expressions, holding hands like their lives depend on it.

Sansa’s heart broke for them. They grew up with the knowledge that their parents did love each other and the prospect of them fighting so bitterly must be utterly scary.

Robb took Sam’s face into his hands and whispered things to him Sansa could not make out the words. She put her hands over her mouth to keep herself silent as she closed the door again.

With a fast pace Sansa made it back to her rooms. She was more awake than before. Her thoughts were running fast. She needed Gilly and Sam to talk to each other, for their sake and for their children’s sake.

She sat by her desk and tried to distract herself with a book, but it was hard to read with only one candle and her worries were louder than the story.

The next morning Jon found his wife sleeping in her chair in a very awkward position that could not be good for her back. He watched her a bit as she was sleeping. Her chest rising and falling with her calm breathing. He liked seeing her asleep as creepy as it sounded to himself, because when she was sleeping, she seemed truly at peace and not worrying and planning like she spent most of her waking hours.

With soft steps he made the short way to her and kissed her forehead softly, but it was not enough to wake her. Jon smiled at her sighing contently at his affection and tried to wake her by grabbing her shoulder and shaking her lightly. Finally, Sansa opened her eyes.

“Good Morning.”, she said, laughter in her blue eyes. But then she tried to move and winced in pain. Jon greeted her too and brushed some soft hair out of her face. “We should get the boys and Sam and Gilly and eat something nice and hot.”

She nodded: “I could use some Tea.”

“But Jon wait a moment.”, he turned back to her, his expression grew even softer. Gods, he loved her. She was beautiful, kind, strong and almost perfect and she was his wife. He was rambling in his head, he knew that but.

“We should take everyone up to the Wall. Sam could use the time with Edd and Tormund to distract him and Gilly might apricate the view. Plus, all four boys might also like the view and meeting their fathers’ friends.”

Jon smiled at her warmly. “That sounds like a great idea. Even though I am sure the trek up will not be that fun for them. Do you think Sam will mind because of Gilly’s pregnancy?”

She shrugged fully awake now: “There is one way to find out.”

When she was done dressing and moved to their children's rooms, she was confronted with a little pile made out of all for boys in Doro’s room. The babe was lying in her cradle bubbling some nonsense words and screeching in glee when she saw her mother.

She took the little girl into her arms, soothing her with tenderness in her eyes and heavy love in her heart that dared to spill every minute with a force she was not ready for.

“Mama?”, she turned and saw Rhae rubbing sleep out of his eyes. He watched her for a moment and then asked: “Can I give Doro a kiss?” Sansa smiled at her boy and brushed his messy hair out of his eyes. She put the babe back into her cradle and lifted Rhae into it, so he could plant a soft kiss onto her fat cheek.

When she let go of him, Rhae beamed up at his mother. “I love Doro. She is our girl.” Sansa smiled back at him. “Yes, she is.” “Well she likes you best, Mama.”, he added with a grin. Then she moved down to him and kissed his little face. “And I love you so much.” He giggled. A light and free sound. “And I love Robb so much.” Another kiss. “And of course, I love Doro so much.” Kiss. Kiss. Kiss.

“And of course, you love Papa!”

She did not answer him.

The boys were all for visiting the wall and see the true north for themselves. They all sweared to listen to their parents and behave perfectly, if only they could see a place, they had heard so much about.

Especially little Sam and Dickon wanted to know more about the Wildlings with whom their mother essentially grew up with. Gilly didn’t tell them that she was technically not a wildling not from the free folks own definition, but those things were too complicated for little boys.

Then again, she did not tell them much about her father except that he had been awful, and Sam had saved her. The boys loved that narrative, their oh so timid father risking everything to safe their mother he just had met.

(They had not been in love right away of course the hadn’t been. Jon had been there but there was something about the fairy tale like story it had become for their children that was almost heartwarming)

When all four boys were running and screeching outside playing knights and having sticks to fight that they gave ridiculous sword names, Jon came to a hold next to Samwell who was watching the kids.

“Do you want to talk about it?”, he asked him with caution in his voice. Jon did want to do something to defuse the situation between his friend and his wife. Gilly and Sam had been a great help and support both in his life and in Sansa’s. All their children were great friends. Robb absolutely adored little Sam and the older boy seemed to like him well too even though the age difference was very prominent right now.

And of course, Jon didn’t want to help them because it was convenient for his family but because he loved both Sam and Gilly and he believed the two of them loved each other too still. And if there was a way to help them thru their difficulties, mustn’t he do anything in his power to help?

Sam did not stop to look at him. When Jon looked out of the window too, he just saw how Robb hurled a snowball at little Sam and then lifted up Rhae as good as he was able to and ducked behind a barrel with him while Dickon roared his revenge with a fit of giggles interrupting him unceremoniously.

Jon watched them and smiled. He loved his kids so much it hurt sometimes.

Finally, Sam turned to him. His pale eyes were red rimmed and his face white as charcoal, but his expression was collected. “Do you really think going to the wall could change anything? Gilly is unhappy and I can’t take it anymore. This new babe won’t change anything about her not fitting into court life…”

He dragged a hand over his face, desperate, as he took a deep and shaky breath. Jon was dying seeing his old friend hurting like this.

“Gilly loves me.”, Sam smiled at his own statement, small and sad, eyes were filling with glittering water again. “She loves little Sam and Dickon more than her own life. She loves Talla and Sansa and you and all of the friends she made with the staff at Horn Hill. She-“

Another deep breath, the tremble in his voice growing more obvious. “Jon, I don’t want her to hate me for wanting her to stay with me. And I don’t the boys to grow up without their mother, if she decided not to stay- What if she resents them to for being the reason, she stayed later down the line?”

“I don’t want _her_ to be unhappy to make _me_ happy. You understand? I- I- I know letting her go will kill me but I want her to be happy and free because _I love her_! I don’t care what it would do to succession when the boys would leave with her. That is not it- I would die of loneliness and heartbreak and-“

Now tears were streaming freely down his face and Jon moved to embrace him. He squished him so hard to his body that if he was in a mind to think he would consider if Sam was in pain, but right in the moment he just wanted him as close as possible. As if this would take some of his emotional pain away.

“It is not fair Jon. _None of this_ is fair!” he sobbed openly into his friend’s shoulder now, his tears trickling into Jon’s tunic and his voice was wet breath on Jon’s warm skin.

“If Daenerys would have left me to go back to the Citadel as I requested, I could be a Maester at the Wall right now. Our family would live amongst friends and not amongst the snakes at court- Every time she calls us to the Red Keep is one time to much- My sister would rule as Lady Tarly in her own right and not trapped in a loveless marriage- It would not be perfect but…“

“Sansa.”, she was standing still, like a stature beautiful and regal and it still after years of marriage took his breath away in the most delicious way. Gods, how could he still be so achingly in love with her when all it did was make him feel alone in their home, their marriage?

When she heard him call her name, she turned and smiled, a blindingly beautiful smile. Gods, he was cursed, wasn’t he?

He stepped fully into her space and returned her smile, as he put his arms around her standing sideways, Pressing himself to the comforting warmth of her body, the scent of her hair, winter and home and safety…

There it was again. The irresistible urge to kiss her. He didn’t know how and when it had became so intimate, so treacherous to kiss her. Like the sole act of pressing his lips to her skin in the chaested way would betray his true feelings for her in an instance.

To distract himself he turned his head away from her, his chin scraping over her soft hair. His heart squeezed painfully. The boys were jumping thru the snow together. Ghost patiently beside them, watching over his human’s puppies.

It was an endearing sight, the way Rhae pressed himself into the wolfs fur, his silver hair almost blurring with it. The way he giggled breathlessly as his brother pretended not to see him. Little Sam came out of the Keep to join them and with a shout he picked up Rhaegar. The youngest boy squealed as Sam packed him by the arm pits and ran around the yard, calling him a baby dragon. Within a few seconds Robb was hot on his heels.

Gilly was the next emerge Dickon was holding on to his mothers and very lively told a tale to her. She listened closely to the boy babbling on, but when he spotted his brother and friends playing, he mumbled something to Gilly, kissed her gloved hand and came to help Sam ‘Kidnap the Prince’.

Their play lasted a good twenty minutes, before Robb died a heroic death, defending his brother.

Gilly laughed at the sighed and applauded the little Stark for his theatrics. Robb was ecstatic with the attention from the adult and bowed deep and gracious, snow still clinging to his dark curls. It was adorable. Rhae came up behind him and hugged him tight as he was probably a bit restless from their play. Sansa had to fight the urge to kiss both of them a million times. She loved her boys.

Sansa hadn’t even noticed that Sam had made his way to them.

He was distant to his wife but just like her, he softened at their children antics.

Jon felt change in the air as he was standing there in his home’s yard. He did not know what their little adventure at the Wall would bring but he knew that it would end with a decision one way or another.

Sighing he rubbed his cooling face. The anxiety was starting to get to him. He cared for Gilly as she had been a part of his life for years now, but he loved Samwell more. He was his brother in all but blood; he was his best friend. He feared what this kind of heartbreak, this kind of tear in his marriage could do to him.

The journey to the wall was slower than it could have been with five children and a pregnant woman, but they made progress steady enough.

They were greeted by the nights watch like old friends. Edd and Tormund were the first to embrace Jon and Sam just like the Last time they had come up north. The boys were ecstatic beyond words and even Gilly looked so much more at ease than in years.

Rae and little Sam urged older Sam to show them the library of castle black and Edd just laughed at them as he was following them while Robb made sure his father was also coming with them and Dickon trailed behind them all as Ghost kept an eye on the human pups.

Gilly watched her boys go with a strong emotion in her bright eyes Sansa dared not name. She rocked her toddler her brown hair had become even darker over the months. Tormund put a bowl of hot soup for each woman down on the table.

Thanking him Gilly digged in, while Sansa was still focused on little Doro.

“So…”, Tormund fell on the bench next to Gilly and opposite of Sansa, as the hall was clearing, and normal business was resuming despite the noble visitors. “Is one of you lasses going to tell me what is going on? Or should I guess until I hit the right nerve.” He was observing both their reaction for a moment.

Sansa did not feel like this was not her issue to bring up, because it obviously was not. She pulled the bubbling girl to her chest and putting the spoon in her mouth as to do something. Gilly rubbed her face and sighed. “I miss home.”, she would mumble after a while. “Those castles and gowns and rules are not made for me. I miss having a simple life.”

Tormund listened without any obvious reaction. “I love Sam. I love my boys. I love the child I cary as it is evidence of Sam’s love for me but I- I can’t stay south anymore. I miss the north. The real north. I want a simple, honest life and I feel that if I stay, I will make my family miserable with me…”

“Oh, girl.”, Tormund pulled her into his strong arms. She returned the embrace strongly. “I just don’t know what to do.”, she admitted with the words breaking. “Maybe you need to get back for a while you know? Not to your father’s layer but to the Free Folk. Maybe being up north for a while will help you feel at ease again.”

Sansa watched them quietly. Glad for the comfort her friend was getting, but sick at the possibility of Gilly leaving and never coming back.

Tormund was brushing her tears from her face as he reassured her that her family and friends loved her too. Sansa reached over to squeeze Gilly’s hand and caressing the soft rosy skin.

“Why can’t this be easy.”, Gilly sniffed as she untangled herself from both her friends, standing up with more force than was strictly necessary. “Why can’t we all be happy? Don’t we deserve to be happy after everything that happened?”

She left the two red heads in a suffocating silence.

Jon had followed his son inside the library with amusement in his eyes. It was too precious. Sam and Rhae where already, hanging on Sam’s literal sleeves as the man searched for a specific book. Jon was glad for he saw the same kind of endorsement and bemusement in his brother’s eyes as he catered to both their son’s (all their sons).

“Papa!”, Little Rhae let go of Samwell and bumped into him with the speed he was using. “Big Sam promised to read us a good story!” Jon picked him up easily. The toddler giggled and for a moment he wondered if it would hurt when his children would grow to old for him to pick up anymore.

Robb pulled at him. “Papa! Come on! I want to see!”

“Yes, _Papa_.”, Edd laughed making sure Dickon made it inside safe by picking him up too. “We want to see what Samwell will read to them. Jon rolled his eyes and flicked his finger at him in passing, with Rhae scolding him for ‘not being nice to his friends’.

“Mama says to be nice to friends.”, he repeated but was quickly distracted as Dickon was grabbing for his hand from his position in Edd’s arms. The boys shrieking with delight as they held hands as the men were carrying in a fashion that allowed that. Sure, Dickon was already four, but he loved indulging the little prince.

Sam on the other hand had let go of his father, grown tired of waiting for his him to find what he was searching for and instead tired to read the backs of the books in the row closest to his head, but given that he was in the middle of learning to read, he was not really successful.

When Samwell’s eyes lit up when he obvious stumbled about the right volume and the boys quickly settled on stools near a fireplace, waiting for the adults to follow suit. Sam smiled down on them before sitting between them.

“This is the story of Raymun Redbeard, who was a King-Beyond-the-Wall. He is renowned for having led an invasion of the north.”

The children followed every word, Sam was reading. It was cute to observe how Robb held his tongue with questions because he didn’t want to interrupt but had to know.

“The night’s watch had shrunken in numbers back than and it was said their training was not what it used to be, so the King took the chance in 266 A.C. and invaded the north.” He looked at the boys and ruffled a head closest to him. “Back then the Free Folk was not our friends yet., He explained before continuing.

“On the shore of Long Lake he met with two strong and capable Lords: Willam of House Stark and Harmond of house Umber. Lord Willam did not survive the battle but his brother Artos Stark sleighed the King of the Free Folk and made sure the fallen warriors were buried.”

The boys loved tales of gallant knights and dangerous battle. If they only knew, Jon thought. If they only knew.

Sure, it was nice to hear the stories and songs now when they were little. Jon had loved them too. But he had to grow up and fight his own haunting fights. There was a fear setting in his bones, that his children would go thru similar trauma. Didn’t he work so hart for their survival so that future generations would be safe?

This was not the first birth Jon witnessed. It was never easy.

Gilly was screaming, groaning with the pain the babe was causing her, while she held onto Samwell’s hand. The same young Maester that delivered four years ago hovered over Gilly now too. Speaking soft encouragement over her screaming, while Sansa sat by Gilly’s other side.

She could not do much else then just hold her friend’s hand because her own baby bump made her immobile. Jon turned from the scene. It was scary every time.

He gently hushed the boys into the dining hall, while he held onto a very irritated Doro. His babe didn’t seem to like that there was someone else screaming now. And usually it was Sansa who could calm her down the best.

The boys were frightened. He saw it in their eyes. While Sam seemed to feel some sort of obligation to appear brave as the eldest of the bunch, the fear was still shinning in his hazel eyes. Rhae on the other hand was softly crying into Robb’s shirt.

To say Jon was overwhelmed by the task at hand was an understatement.

“May I, my Lord?”

Jon turned to see a pair of amber eyes in a narrow warm brown face. He recognized him as the boy who announced to him four years ago that his wife had fallen, which had led to labor. The boy, Jon did not dare to call him a man yet, was maybe fifteen now. His smile was soft, but he flinched at a particular loud scream from the birthing chamber.

“What?”

He knew he was harsh, but his patience was hanging by a threat. The boy’s smile widened just a bit. “Can I hold your daughter for you, Lord Stark? I see the other children need you too and I swear I am good with babes. I am the eldest of four.”, he added. Jon bit his tongue on the automatic response that he was _not_ Lord Stark, his wife was _Lady Stark_ , but no one had time for that.

“What is your name, Lad?”, he asked instead.

“Bram.”

“Well, Bram. Nice to see you again.”, Jon sounded surer than he was about giving his daughter to an almost stranger. But the girl would not calm down no matter what he did. He remembered the boys being so much easier. (Or maybe Doro sensed his own distress)

Jon handed her over and Bram took her into his arms with a gentle hand to support her little head. He rocked her carefully, singing a valyrian song to her, while the girl watched him with narrow and suspicious eyes.

Squatting down to the boys Jon smiled at them. “Papa…”, Rhae’s voice was thin with tears. “Is Gilly hurting?”. Sighing Jon opened his arms for him. Robb and Dickon followed suit quickly after. He brushed away his little boy’s tears and rubbing the other boys’ shoulders. Dickon seemed pale and Jon pulled him closer into his embrace.

“It does hurt.”, he answered hesitantly, mulling over a gentle way to explain. “Bringing a babe into this world always hurts the mother, but Gilly is strong and right now she is working hard so Sam and Dickon’s sibling can be with us safely. We can just wait until she is ready.”

He pressed a kiss into three different hair crowns and moved to Sam who was starring at the wall. “Hey buddy…”, he laid a hand on his arm. “Your mother will be fine.”, he said. “I remember when you were born. It was cold and snowing there was no Maester present. I know what I am saying.”

The boy turned and to him eyes filled with tears. Finally, he jumped into his arms, pressing his face into the crook of Jon’s neck, crying. He rubbed his back in calming circles. “Your mother is strong. She will be fine.”

After a while Sam pulled back, taking a deep breath. Jon smiled at him. “Are you better, buddy?” When he nodded, they joined the other boys. Meanwhile Doro was sleeping soundly in Bram’s arms. Which was a surprise to say the least.

“How about we drink a cup of tea?”

It was better than. They were all sipping on a fresh cup of herbal tea, while Jon helped Rhae with the drink and kept an eye on Doro.

Then the door opened and Sansa peeked in.

“Sam? Dickon? Do you want to meet your little sister?”

The boys lit up and Sansa ushered them into the room with a warm smile. Jon made sure Robb and Rhae finished their drinks, so the Tarly’s had some time to themselves.

When Sansa came back and picked up her sleeping daughter, she motioned for her boys to follow her. In the corridor she slipped her hand into Jon’s and he smiled at her.

They were greeted by a very tired Gilly, with sweat making her hair stick to her forehead, but here eyes were shinning at the little bundle in her arms. Jon encouraged Robb and Rhae to step closer. Sam looked exceptionally proud, when he explained to Dickon how to hold a baby. The younger boy was a bit insecure as he never really held a babe, but it was his little sister after all.

“What is her name?”, Robb was holding onto the edge of the bed. The girl was tiny, shriveled up and still a bit sticky. But there was a wisp of brown hair on her head and the eyes were blue like a lot of were in the beginning of one’s live.

Gilly smiled at the boys, but Jon saw that she was holding on to Sam’s hand. “Her name is Marigold.” Little Sam put a light kiss to her head as she fuzzed. “Like the flower.” he explained, “She is our little Mari now.”  
  


“Jon! I won’t let you stop me.”

Sansa was pointedly not looking at her husband as she made her way to the steel cage that would bring her to the top of the wall.

“Sansa!”, Jon sounded more than annoyed, but Sansa would not get herself sweyed. She was fine. She could do that. Gilly needed her.

“You are in no condition to go up there.” he insisted still. “And before you say anything neither was Gilly and I have no idea who let her go.”

She thru her hands in the air in frustration. “I want to help her!” Sansa felt the emotion swell up in her. It was one of the least favorite part about pregnancy for her. Sure, her feet hurt like seven hells but she wanted to help! She was so close to stomping her foot like the little girl she once was.

Jon did not grab her, but he wrenched himself between her and the lift. “Sansa think about you and your unborn child. Gilly is not alone up there and if she needs time, we should leave her to it.”

She sighed and rubbed her belly, feeling the child within her kicking around.

“Fine.” She visibly deflated. Jon cautiously put an arm around her. Sometimes she wished he would stop treating her like she was made of glass. But well, she was newly pregnant, and she had fallen once on those frozen ways. The Maester here had estimated her to be around the second month of her pregnancy

She let Jon lead her back inside into the relative warmth of Castle Black.

Sam was sitting with Edd and Tormund his little daughter in his arms as he hummed a soothing tune. The boys were with some of the black brothers and the essossie boy, Bram in the armory. Sansa had to smile when she saw the carful way Tormund was holding her baby.

With difficulty she sat next to them. Jon making sure she was comfortable before seating herself. Her heart swelled hurtfully as she watched him and Tormund coo over the girl who looked up to them with her violet eyes and laughed at their antics. She was such an easy child at least when she was with her mother.

Robb called his baby sister a ‘mama’s girl’ whenever she was screaming from the top of her lungs, to her brothers’ and father’s dismay, only Sansa could calm her. Not one of the girls working at the nursery could calm her when Doro spiraled herself into a tantrum.

Right now, the girl was in a very good mood.

Doro was a gentle child that could scream herself into a fit in such a short amount of time and with such a loud roar, people had no trouble seeing her Targaryen ancestry. Some maids joked that she was already commanding the keep with her occasional screams. Either she was a sunshine that smiled and clumsily waved at people or she was a little screeching monster there was no in-between.

Sam was coming in with a piece of paper and quill and ink. He sat himself far away enough from the babe to write. Sansa wondered were his own daughter was.

He scribbled furiously. 

“Sam?”, Sansa asked lightly. “What are you up to?”

The man looked up to her with distant eyes. There was something in the cold way he was fixing her gaze that made her uncomfortable. He tried to smile but it did not work that great.

“I have been away from Hornhill for quite awhile. There is some business that has to be dealt with.”

She nodded attentive and asked him were Marigold was right now.

At this he pushed the sheet a bit and his expression grew warmer and softer. “My girl sleeps in the make-shift cradle in my room. One of Gilly’s maids is with her. She is a precious little think. The boys are older now and I almost forgot how small a newly born is.”

“Yes.”, she agreed quietly. “They are so tiny. It is hard to believe that we all started out so little.”

They were interrupted by Doro fuzzing and blubbering to the two men entertaining her angrily. Jon snorted at Tormund affronted face. “The little princess is really fierce already.”, he said as tiny hands tried to scratch him for tickling her one too many times.

“Come, give me my girl.”, Sansa told them as Doro kept spouting nonsense at them with a dark face. “Yes, by all means.”, Jon said. “She is your girl.” She shot him a dark glance that could not cover her amusement. When the toddler registered that she was with her mother she smiled happily up at Sansa.

“Oh, Jon is right that is some bias if I ever seen any.”, Edd commented. “Isn’t it usually the father’s daughters seem to prefer?”

Sansa shrugged: “I preferred spending time with my mother as child.”, she glanced at Jon with insecurity. “But Arya used every chance she could get to trail along father and our older brothers.” She had to smile as she thought about their sister. Sansa hoped Arya and Gendry would come home to them soon.

She hoped Arya was fine and healthy and that she could meet her niece and nephews soon. 

Sansa was woken that night by ruckus and howling in the Keep. Instinctively grabbing a dagger, she always kept close to her, she prayed that she still remembered what her sister had taught her years ago about using steel: she moved carefully out of her rooms to investigate.

She was met by her boys also coming out of the room to look what was happening. For a moment she was afraid and furious that they would not hide when they didn’t know what was going on. She ushered them back in and made sure one of her servants was with them.

When her children were safe, she opened the door to the room Sam and Dickon shared. It was empty. Grabbing a cloak, she was hurrying outside.

Meeting black brother on her way it became apparent that they were at least not under attack.

She was greeted by Ghost sitting patiently next to Sam. The man was sitting in the snow, starring into the dark night sky. Sansa shivered from watching alone. The wind was biting thru all layers of her clothing and chilling her to the bone after a minute in the dark. She had no idea how numb her friend must be or how long he was positioned like this.

His boys were standing some distance away from him confused and scared.

Suddenly Jon appeared from the direction of the Wall. He was wearing his boots but a cloak that was obviously a black brother’s, with him was Edd, equally mismatching dressed. He wore a graver expression than usual and it worried her until-

The realization settled into her like a freezing spell. Her blood ran cold.

Without exchanging as much as a word with the men, she wanted helped them bring the Tarly’s back inside and warm them up enough. Sam needed time alone, they all knew but it broke her heart seeing him that cathartic.

Determined to aid at least the children, she moved her frozen limbs. Sam was clutching onto his little brother protectively and whispering things to him Sansa could not make out over the roar of the wind. She kneeled next to them and hugged them tight to her heart before telling them that they had to come inside and warm themselves next to a good fire. The boys took her hand with little resistance but with sad glances over to their father.

Later when all the children were tucked into bed, Jon came back to her. “She is gone, isn’t she?”, Sansa asked carefully. Jon rubbed his face. He was pale and tired looking, so much so that he might as well be confused for Ghost.

He sighed and nodded again. “What of Mari?”, Edd has found a girl from a farm not far from here who just lost a bastard and still capable of feeding a babe. Her father was apparently glad to get rid of her. And for her in the reach no one knows of her Night’s Watch bastard.”

Sansa didn’t want to think about the implication. “Sam will take the boys home after that, but he wants them to be fostered next year.”

She looked up to his dark eyes, startled. “They just lost their mother and he wants them to be fostered when their sister is not even old enough to remember them?”

Jon made a helpless gesture: “He asked if we could take little Sam. And Gilly left with Tormund this morning to find the Wildling settlement closest to the wall.”

Sansa was exhausted and aching. She watched their Maester mulling about as some maids tried their best to wash her little girl up. The girl had dark hair like Robb and Jon, but her eyes were already a startling Tully blue.

Jon came back in. He had been by her side the whole labor this time. He had left shortly to get the children. Her boys came in. Rhae was holding on to Robb as they came closer. She smiled at them, as she closed her eyes for a moment. They were stinging with her tiredness, but she forced them open again.

“Boys, come sit by me and say hello to your new sister.”

Jon lifted them up to sit at her bedside. As she showed them the now cooing babe. Her husband pressed a kiss to her temple. It was way to short and she wished she could pull him closer again as he retreated.

“She has dark hair too.”, Rhae said, “But Mama’s eyes.” Robb nodded. “She is a pretty girl.”, he added. “Doro will have a little sister to play with.” He pressed Rhae’s little hand in his and smiled at his brother.

As they asked her what their new sister was called, Sansa looked up to Jon in a question. They had discussed names before, but they never absolutely agreed to something. He knew what she wanted to name the child; she was sure. He nodded with a smile that made her heart skip a beat.

“Her name is Catelyn after your grandmother.”

After a while Sam and his boys came in too. The man was holding Marigold who was only a few moons older than their little Cat. Dickon was excited that his sister and Robb and Rhae’s sister could be friends since the were born so close to each other.

With ice in her veins she noticed that Gilly absence more than she had in the last weeks. Sansa did not know how she felt about her decision to abandon her family. Sansa found she was too exhausted even after sleeping half the day to find tears.

She new the Tarly’s would be setting out to Hornhill in the morning. Sansa was not sure if she would see them at all before that. She just hoped Sam would reconsider before sending his son’s away next year. They needed to be with family. All of his children.


	5. Dragon Targaryen?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Behind her, Drogon was curled up into himself. His black scales were glittering in the sunlight, that broke thru the grey clouds. As his eyes burned like boiling blood. Sansa felt Rhae holding on to her painfully. She was afraid to look at her boy and see fear there. Because it was all it would take to pick him up and run.
> 
> Doro was not doing better. She was hiding her little face in the nabe of Jon’s neck. Sansa could not hear what her husband was telling her, but Jon was rubbing her little back and whispering in her ear.
> 
> “Hello, my little Dragons!”, Daenerys caught up to them and gifted the children a big smile. “Are you ready to go greet my child, my Drogon?” Rhaegar looked up to her with insecure silver eyes. “Aunty Dany? Do we have to?”
> 
> Daenerys face fell. “Rhaegar.”, she knelt next to him and brushed his wind tousled hair out of his eyes. “Don’t be afraid. Drogon is my child. He is part of our family. You are a Dragon too. He won’t hurt you. Trust me.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I am still here? 👉👈

Going back to Kingslanding after what happened at the wall was surreal. Sure, it had been almost two years since Sansa had last seen the capital, but she was glad for it.

She would have been glad if she did not have to see the damned castle again with its damned ghosts.

Her children on the other hand were ecstatic. Robb seemed to rather like the Red Keep. He liked meeting the other children, liked spending time with the ladies of the court and watching the Queensguard train.

Rhae on the other hand was uncomfortable last time. He liked to play with other highborn children too but he hated the attention the adults would keep on him. He was five now and he knew that he was a prince; he just wasn’t sure yet what that meant for him.

Sam was staying with them a little over a year now. The boy was nine now and he enjoyed his time with the Stark children and just like his mother, he seemed to be made for the cold snow-filled air of the North. But the boy seemed anxious about seeing his brother again. Dickon was fostered by the Cunningtons in Storm’s End with his aunt Talla.

Doro had all the confidence her older brother was lacking. She reminded Sansa of Arya at that age if only for her dislike of wearing dresses and having to sit still. She was charming if she had to be. Doro made it a habit to beg the septa to let her roam the yards longer and the cooks to give her sweets when her parents were distracted, sometimes she made her brothers compliant.

Cat was a pretty toddler with thick dark hair and Tully blue eyes. She loved listening to stories like Rhae and she liked being complimented and coddled. Unlike Doro who had grown independent of Jon fast and rarely sought Sansa attention more than his, Cat was all Jon’s daughter. Which was highly ironic given her namesake.

But Cat always was happiest in Jon’s arms and when he entered the room no one else seemed to matter to the little girl.

It was both endearing and filled Sansa with a weird sense of dread. She loved Rhae and Doro, but they were not Starks at least not legally under Daenerys. They were Targaryen. A part of Sansa feared that this trip south was the last for her little Dragonwolves. It made sense if the Queen wanted to foster her heir in the Capital.

She didn’t want to give her children up. She did not trust Daenerys to care for them correctly. The Queen would grow tired of the little children eventually she was afraid. It did not help that Rhae and Doro were the children that were the most emotionally dependent on her. Robb with his six years liked to come to Sam first before confiding in his parents with his problems. And as said before Cat heavily favored Jon over her.

She did not want to resent Jon for it one day.

Jon was chasing his boys around the yard with a few other noble children joining in. The Tully twins seem to be braver now that they were five and joined their nephews’ games. Loren Greyjoy challenged Robb to a duel with wooden sticks and Sam and Dicken were riding Ghost to three-year-old Arthur Connington's suspicion.

It was a peaceful sight.

The scene came to a halt when Daenerys entered from the main gate. Most of the children fled to their parents in embarrassment. Sansa knew the Queen hated how intimidated the children were of her appearance and status. But she was the most powerful person in the realm and she was known for having Dragons. Sansa was not sure if she understood that she could not have it both ways.

Robb came up to her though. He was always sad that he did not know much about his aunt. He took every opportunity he had to learn more about her. The Stark heir cared about his family and he considered the Queen to be part of it.

Bowing the boy smiled at the Queen. “Aunt! Will you play with us?” There was hope shining in his grey eyes and Dany did pet his messy hair absently, but it was Rhaegar she was looking at. “Would you like me to join, my little Dragon?”

Rhae clutched onto Dragon and shot Jon a questioning look. He was uncomfortable with the heavy focus Daenerys was setting on him, both his parents knew but there was little way around it. Jon smiled and encouraged him to answer. “I guess that would be nice, Your Grace.”

“I am glad!” She turned to Doro. “And you, my little Princess? Will you-?”

The girl now only three, was not familiar with Daenerys and had no intention to change that as she ran over to Sansa instead of answering. Sighing inside Sansa raked a hand thru dark hair. For a moment she met Daenerys’ gaze and an emotion that Sansa was too afraid to name flickered over violet eyes.

“ _Daenerys_ , sweetling.”, Doro looked up to her insecurely. Sansa brushed hair out of her face. She usually did not use the girl's full name. For the Starks, she was their Doro. “Maybe you should go play with your aunt and brothers? She just wants to get to know you.”

Doro nodded slowly and turned back to the Queen. Sansa saw how much darker her daughter’s purple eyes were.

They were sitting down for a game of patty-cake.

It did not last long and before long the Dragon Queen was sitting next to Sansa laying a hand on her arm. “My sweet Sansa, I hope you can do me an important favor.” She set down her embroidery and forced a smile. “Of course, Your Grace. What do you need?” That response was well trained.

Daenerys seemed pleased either way. Sansa guessed she knew about her distaste but didn’t care for it as long as she was getting what she wants.

“Actually I want to ask for two things.”

The hand on Sansa’s arm traveled down to grab her wrist like an iron cast. “I want our little dragons.” Suppressing a shudder Sansa held on to her smile. _Our little Dragons_. As if it were her children and not Sansa’s. “To meet Drogon.”

Her heart stopped. No. That was her first thought. No, she would not let her babies anywhere near the gigantic monster. That war machine. Doro was only three. A toddler. And her boy, her Rhae- She could not-!

“Don’t be afraid, my sweet Lady.” The Queen caressed her skin, hot and uncomfortable. “Your children are the blood of the Dragon. Being around my child is only natural for them. You know that my ancestors would lay a dragon egg into a newborn Targaryen’s crib. Sadly I could not find the fabled eggs on Dragonstone.”

Sansa’s mind was still swimming with the images of burned child corpses. Not being able to shake the sickening panic that stuck to her nerves Sansa tried to take a breath and ground herself. She wished Jon could hold her but she knew the Queen did not like her husband around her.

She was, at least physically alone in this.

“My Queen.”, she hated how her voice trembled. “I know you want this, but can’t we wait until the children are older. I know it is important for them-“ _Important for you_ \- “But I don’t want them to be afraid of Drogon only because they don’t understand yet.”

Sansa knew about the magic blood of her family and the Dragon riders. But just because Dany had the - as she understood it rare – ability to hatch Dragons and ride them as her ancestors didn’t mean her children had. Sure, Jon having a special link to Ghost and Arya also seemed to be magic as she is able to learn the ways of Faceless Men. But Sansa never showed magic abilities. So, maybe her children didn’t have it _because of her_.

What if Dany would not be pleased with Sansa’s children?

What would happen to them?

“It will be fine.”, the Queen squeezed her flesh hard and painful. “It will be fine Sansa. They are my blood they are the blood of the Dragon.”

The smile on her face was forced now and Sansa had to keep in mind that they were not alone and she could not openly refuse the Queen. She felt both Yara and Jon’s eyes on her.

“Of course my Queen.”, A shuddering breath. “What is the second thing I can do for you?” Daenerys seemed pleased. “Yes, Sansa! I want to take you with me to Dragonstone in a few days. There are some things I want to show you and we can spend some time together. I trust it will be great.”

“I am sure, your Grace.”

Her gaze flickered to Jon who was very concerned looking. But what were they to do? Daenerys was clear in her treatment of disobedience and Sansa worried more about Rhae and Doro than herself and what would happen on Dragonstone.

Robb watched her with a storm in his dark grey eyes. “She does not want me there.” It was not a question but a statement. And Sansa was too tired to attempt to lie to him. Robb was a bright boy, but he was only a boy nonetheless. He should not concern himself with the Queen’s love. He should not be so affected by her obvious favoritism for his siblings.

“Papa! Papa!”, Cat stomped on her tiny foot. Her face distorted in the blind rage of a toddler. “Take Cat! Don’t go with Doro! Don’t! Don’t!”

Her screeching was shrill and hysteric, but Jon swooped her into his waiting arms anyway. “Come one, little winter rose.” She hid in the small of his neck. “Papa…”, she still whined. When she calmed down a bit, it was Robb who took her little hand.

He took a deep breath and moved to hug Cat, as he shot Rhae a long look. The girl grinned up to him sweetly, her anger was forgotten now that her father promised to come back. “Robb can we play maidwwen and mon’ters?”, she asked, and her brother pressed a kiss to her dark hair. With a giggle the young girl tried to pull him to her toy chest.

Sam watched them for a moment before he joined in.

“Brienne.”, It was hard for Sansa to turn away but she did anyway. This was something she and Jon needed to address in due time. She could not endure her children being so split amongst themselves. It was not right. “Keep an eye on the children and let them play outside if they wish to.” The trusty knight nodded.

Sansa took Rhae’s hand. He had his little green dragon loosely in his grip. A sight that would please the queen surly. Jon rested a fuzzing Doro on his hip. The girl had not got as much nap time as usual as her brother’s lessons were not to the same times as at Winterfell.

Rhae watched the back of Robb’s head as long as he could. His silver eyes dropped to his shoes after leaving their rooms. Sansa blinked at him questioning but the boy just shook his head stubbornly. “I don’t want Robb to be angry.”, he whispered to her. “I may be a prince for Aunt Dany but… She wants me to be _grandfather_ , but I am just Rhae…”

Dropping to her knees Sansa pulled the boy close to her again. “You are my perfect little boy just the way you are.”, she reassured him. “You are too little to worry about any of those things. You should learn your numbers and letters and play with your siblings and friends.”

He nodded curtly. “Can I go see Lysa later? She tells the story of Jenny so good!”

Sansa brushed fine silver hair out of his round face. “Of course dear. I am sure my cousin would be happy to have someone around that actually likes to listen to her stories, songs, and reading.” Rhae’s eyes were shining again. Even if they were still dulled by his worries. So, Sansa hugged him a second time. As if she could press her baby boy flush to her heart.

“Robb is angry with Aunt Dany for a bit because she treats him so much differently than you and Doro but he is not angry with you two. I promise.”

Jon knelt next to them too. He balanced his weight on one knee while he held Doro to kiss her brother. The three-year-old kissed his nose his hair and his cheek. “Is Rhea sad?”, she asked. Shaking her head furiously she added: “Don’t be! Don’t be! Doro will make you smile.”

Sansa kissed her daughter too, with a smile. She did not start to speak as soon as her brothers and now at three she had the same vocabulary as Cat at two, but if she learned anything from watching Bran and Rickon was that children developed at different speeds. Robb had liked to remind them all of that.

(She ignored the sting in her heart the thought about her dead brothers still left her with. She couldn’t even remember Father’s face anymore.)

Outside on top of a hill outside the city, they waited for Daenerys.

The Queen came to them, a vision in leather as pale as her hair. It was the first time in a while that Sansa had seen her in anything but richly worked dresses. She wore her silver hair in the elaborate braid that she once wore as a _khaleesi_ of the Dorthraki. It was one of the things that empowered her, Jon had shared that with Sansa a while ago.

Behind her, Drogon was curled up into himself. His black scales were glittering in the sunlight, that broke thru the grey clouds. As his eyes burned like boiling blood. Sansa felt Rhae holding on to her painfully. She was afraid to look at her boy and see fear there. Because it was all it would take to pick him up and run.

Doro was not doing better. She was hiding her little face in the nabe of Jon’s neck. Sansa could not hear what her husband was telling her, but Jon was rubbing her little back and whispering in her ear.

“Hello, my little Dragons!”, Daenerys caught up to them and gifted the children a big smile. “Are you ready to go greet my child, my Drogon?” Rhaegar looked up to her with insecure silver eyes. “Aunty Dany? Do we have to?”

Daenerys face fell. “Rhaegar.”, she knelt next to him and brushed his wind tousled hair out of his eyes. “Don’t be afraid. Drogon is my child. He is part of our family. You are a Dragon too. He won’t hurt you. Trust me.”

The boy clutched his stuffed Dragon closer to his heart as to shield himself, to have something between him and the Queen. “Daenerys, maybe-“

The Woman’s eyes snapped up to Jon, with fire burning there. “It is _fine_ , Jon.”, her voice was sharp and she made a point out of hoisting Rhae up in her arms. The boy seemed uncomfortable but he was aware enough to keep his mouth shut. Doro on the other hand did not want to play like this. She glared at the Dragon Queen, dark purple eyes trained on her brother. “Rhae?”, she asked as biting as her namesake.

“Aunty Dany wants us to meet Drogon.”, he said carefully. “Will you come with us, Doro?” Purple eyes flickered up to blood-red ones and she shook her head, so vigorously, her braid was coming loose. “No! Scary!”

Daenerys put a palm up to her cheek. “It is alright, my Dragon.” Doro did not look at her anymore. “Scary!”, she repeated.

Rhae wiggled out of the Queen's grip and opened his own arms for his sister. “Come Doro.”, he said easy. “Dragon will protect us if we need it.”, he pointed to his glass-eyed puppet. “But Aunty Dany said Drogon won’t hurt us.” When the girl still seemed frightened, he added: “Remember how Lysa and the twins were scared of Ghost because he is so big and has sharp teeth? But we know he won’t hurt our friends. Well, Aunt Dany loves Drogon like we love Ghost. Maybe we should try to say hello to him.”

Daenerys didn’t seem to agree with the comparison but didn’t say anything. Sansa guessed as long as Doro would come with them, it did not matter that much.

Sansa watched the exchange as her daughter slipped into her brother’s arms as he in turn took a pleased Daenerys’ hand. “I knew you are as brave as my brother was, Rhaegar.”, she said petting his silver hair. “You will see, Drogon will be delighted. It is just sad that you will never be able to ride him as long as I am alive. I wish I could give you two your own Dragons, to feel the strong bond a rider has with their Dragon.”

Sansa took an unconscious step forward as her boy stepped so scarily close to the giant, live Dragon. Panic was pumping thru her veins. She could not let them. And if Daenerys would execute her on the spot for treason, she did not care. She needed to save her babies.

Jon did not look better than her, his dark eyes shining as purple as Doro’s in the sparse sunlight. She held on to him, as not to intervene but her eyes could not leave Rhae.

The boy bowed to the beast. Daenerys chuckled at it and stroked Drogon’s scales between his eyes. “Try it.”, she encouraged the children. “Drogon is warm and the patterns of his scales are interesting to touch.”

Doro looked down at her brother who seemed frozen in fear. There were tears glittering in his eyes, but Doro put a hesitant hand to the Dragons jaw. Her eyes grew round, and a huge grin split her face as Drogon purred at her pets. Her other arm slung over Rhae’s shoulder. “Rhae.”, she was so excited, while her parents just flooded with relief. “He is so hot…”

Snatching the toddler up, Daenerys petted her hair this time. “You are such a good girl, Daenerys.” She cooed as she held her higher to be nuzzled by the Dragon’s snout. After that, the beast eyed Rhae for a moment, and even if the Queen did not seem interested in his reaction anymore, Rhaegar overcame his fears and petted dry scales.

Sansa for her part was proud. Even if the whole ordeal left her with a foul taste in her mouth.

So, why was her stomach still hurting with anxiety?

“Sansa!”, Jon put his hand on her shoulder and all air left her body. She all but fell into his waiting arms. She was tired of those games, so tired.

Jon swooped her up with ease and placed her on their bed carefully. He kicked off his boots and laid himself next to her, but Sansa sat up again. She clawed at her corset lacing and ripped the offending piece of clothing off her body. Jon chuckled at her and Sansa turned to glare at him, as a strand of hair fell in her face. She tried to blow it out of her eyes to no avail. Jon laughed louder and Sansa broke into a smile herself.

She pressed herself closer to her husband’s body. Fluttering light kisses onto his tan skin. Jon sighed and shifted himself so he could lie in Sansa’s lap as she probed herself against the bedpost. They stayed like that for a while. Her fingers in his unruly her, like a lullaby.

He hummed against her stomach in contentment. The day had been just one challenge to his nerves, with his children petting a Dragon in the End. But Rhae and Doro seemed to be fine, sleeping in their respective beds.

He had been afraid for them, either way. Daenerys was unpredictable when it came to her last Dragon. Jon had no idea what she would have done if Drogon would have rejected the children. He had no idea what she would do if one of them would be more loved then her someday. He was just afraid.

Jon turned and pressed his face into Sansa’s belly, breathing in her intoxicating smell. He wanted to go home with her, wanted to stay in the north with her where they had peace and quiet.

Sansa’s fingers grazed his scalp and he had no idea when he fell asleep that night.

He woke up to her squirming a few hours later. Since he had children his sleep seemed even lighter than in the watch. Which was somehow highly ironic.

But Sansa was tossing and turning, quietly mumbling franticly in her nightmare. The day had been tough on all the Starks. The whole ordeal with Drogon had left him anxious and worrying too, but Sansa had never a magic connection to her Lady as he, Arya, Bran, and their other siblings had to their wolves. They had talked about it a bit. She was sure, she was not ‘special enough to have those powers’, but Jon didn’t believe that. Sansa had lost her wolf first. How could her power have grown?

Jon pulled his wife closer to his heart. It was not the first time one of them had woken up with a nightmare. Memories of times they both would rather forget, were still haunting their respective sleep even now. He wiped away her moist hair, humming against her skin, as she was subconsciously clinging to him.

“Sansa.”, he tried softly to wake her as now she was sobbing. At moments like this, he wished it was not just the two of them. That Arya and Bran would return to them. Sure, they had their children now, their own little pack, but the wars of their youth were nothing they could burden the little ones with. He knew Sansa missed them just as much as he did.

Without their siblings, their family still felt incomplete.

“Jon?”, she shook awake, gasping, trembling. “Jon?”

“I am here…” he kissed her as sweetly as he could. “I am here.”

She pressed herself against his chest as to check that he was still alive. A habit she had picked up after he had woken up from a nightmare about his own death. It weirdly enough helped both of them calm down a bit. They were both alive. They both had survived.

If anything they both would continue to survive.

After the dream about Little Finger, (something she did not want to dwell on longer than she had to.) she could not find sleep again. It was of course not fair to keep Jon awake with her, not if he would be the one that would be left with their children and responsibility tomorrow.

He was arguing but, in the end, even Jon had to admit that he was exhausted. She slipped out eventually when his breath evened out again. Sansa was not surprised when she met an awake and alert Brienne outside. The trusty knight smiled at her.

“My Lady.” Sansa nodded at her, but her own smile was tight with the anxiety swirling in her stomach.

“Sansa, are you alright?”

“No, not really, but we all have our part to play. It will get better eventually.”

At that Brienne just nodded. They had late night conversations like this occasionally. It had something very intimate to have such a loyal friend as Brienne trust her, her employer, with such private thoughts and worries.

It made her feel hope for the future.

“Sansa, knowing you I assume you don’t want to talk about your worries-“ Sansa huffed out a small laugh at that. Brienne knew her well indeed. And that she was using her first name without being prompted to, made her happy too.

“I ask you to listen to mine.”

At that Sansa turned, concerned. She had been so in her head about her own problems and fears that she didn’t even notice that her friend was struggling too. The guilt mixed with her anxiety, sickeningly sweet.

“Don’t look at me like that. I’d like to think I hid it well too.”

“You really should not try to make me feel better about that right now, but please tell me. I might be able to help.”

“I am afraid if you can’t lend me an heir, you can’t help me, my Lady.”

Sansa crinkled her forehead together but did not say anything further. Instead, she took her knight’s arm again and pulled Jon’s cloak closer around himself. They walked a while longer before Brienne started talking again. The Red Keep lay dead silent in front of them. Another ghost from another life. Wasn’t it curious that she had dreamed about Baelish rather than Cersei or Joffrey?

“My father came to me the other day, asking me to be reinstated as his heir.”

Sansa’s first gut feeling was that this was a good thing. It had hit Brienne hard when Lord Tarth had cast her aside without having anyone else to appoint as his successor. It had been her past relationship with Jaime Lannister, Sansa knew that, but she would not bring the man up to the knight. Not after all the hurt, she had endured because of him. But the sadness in those eyes spoke of a different story.

“I love him and he is not getting younger, but taking my claim means leaving Winterfell… Leaving Lord Jon and the children and of course you, my Lady, it doesn’t sit right with me. The friendship and love you all have extended to me… I could never repay you.”

Another charged pause.

“On the one hand, he wants me to marry of course, if I inherit the island I need to ensure succession. I just- I don’t know if I can trust anyone like this.”, she bit her lip, to silence the words spilling out. “But I can’t abandon my home, Sansa. You of all people should know how I feel.”

Instead of answering right away, Sansa stopped and got on her tip-toes to hug the taller woman. She pressed her as hard to her chest as she was able too. “I love you, Brienne. I cannot express how thankful I am for everything you did for me and my family from my mother to my youngest daughter. I will support you whatever you choose to do, even if I am sad to see you leave.”

She squeezed one last time before letting go.

“Your suiters won’t have it easy between me, my husband, and our children.” She smiled. “I am pretty sure we will break Rhae’s heart as he loves you very much.”

Brienne laughed, a sighed filled Sansa’s heart with affection. “He said I am a true knight. I just wasn’t aware he wants to marry me.”

Sansa shrugged grinning. “A true knight and a fair prince. The stuff of songs.”

After that she still wanted to take a look into her children’s room, to ease her mind. Brienne was happy to escort her, probably also to know the little Starks were sleeping fine. But when they reached the chamber the Stark kids were sharing, they were greeted with hushed voices and rambling. The knight raised a brow.

When they opened the door slowly and creaking the hustle intensified. The women stepped into a seemingly quiet room. Robb and Sam were huddling in to each other, breathing regularly and controlled. To their credit, if Sansa would not hear them a second ago she could have believed that they were sleeping.

Rhae seemed to get his breathing similarly finely trained, but the nervous flutter of his silver eyelashes betrayed his attempts to peak at them. Doro next to him tried to mask her giggling as snoring. It was Cat that opened her little eyes obviously and asked: “Mama?”, confused.

That earned the youngest Stark groaning from the other children. “Gosh darn it, Kitty!”, Robb grumbled obviously disappointed. Kitty was a nickname the boys sometimes employed for their youngest sister. And he obviously did not dare to actually swear in front of his mother. But when she looked at him with round, baby blue eyes and asked him if he was angry, he couldn’t do anything other than hug her and tell her how much he loved her.

Yes, the kids were alright.

But they really needed to sleep too.

Sansa was not sure why she was so calm right now. When Dany introduced her children to her Dragon, she wanted nothing more than bring them all to a safe place. But now that she was on the monster’s back herself, she had not the strength to care for her own life.

Drogon was warm under her tights, hot almost. If she was not so frozen by fear she would have appreciated it more. Was the Queen bringing her to her ancestral home to kill her? Get rid of her once and for all now that she had what she wanted? Sansa’s children as heirs?

Flying was way more fun than Sansa would have imagined even in her wildest dreams. She could easily see why Daenerys would rather spend time atop a dragon than reigning over the realm. It made one feel powerful in the purest form. The swoops she felt in the pit of her stomach were both exciting and sickening.

Dragonstone laid almost vacant before them. Only a few servants were staying behind now that the Queen had left for the Red Keep.

There was not much to live in, but there were enough girls to serve the Queen as handmaidens and the kitchen was fully staffed with some of the people living near the coastline of the island readily enough.

Sansa for her part was not sure what she was supposed to do here. Was the Queen just interested to have her alone for a bit? What kind of impression would that leave in the capital? Rumors flew fast and Sansa was not comfortable with the thought that people would hail her for one of Daenerys' sexual conquests.

In that regard, the new Queen was just like the man she had named usurper. Robert Baratheon had been competent in the art of war and he enjoyed it. Similar Daenerys had many cities and territories she had made hers before coming west. She was a conqueror and not a ruler.

And just like Robert before her ruling bored her and the weight of the real responsibility left her hollow. Just like him, she had her romantic escapades. Was history just doomed to repeat and repeat and repeat itself?

She was tired, in more than one definition of the word.

On her second day on Dragonstone, Daenerys called Sansa to the great hall. She was sitting on the throne there in the empty hall. It had a kind of eerie effect. “You asked for me, your Grace?” Sansa curtsied. “Sansa please we are alone here.” Daenerys stood.

She placed her fingers on her face, warm and uncomfortable. “Please we are friends and family, are we not?”

“Yes, your Grace. But there is a certain respect that I have for you that I am not comfortable to stop showing.”

Daenerys smiled and caressed her cheek. “That is very noble of you, my sweet lady. But I wish you would be more comfortable with me, as I am your kin and friend. We are practically sisters, dear.”

Sansa reciprocated the gesture of friendship, but. _I already have a sister._ , she thought, _And I would trade seeing her, for seeing you in a heartbeat…_

“The reason I brought you here, Sweet Sansa, is that I need you to assist me. I told you about the Targaryen traditions of hatching eggs with newborns. Well, that is obviously not possible anymore since our Prince and Princess are already too old and well, I didn’t have any eggs at my disposal back then but it is rumored that, there are old Dragon Eggs back here. If we manage to find and hatch at least one… There would be Dragons again for good, Sansa!

The new child could mate with Drogon and my Rhaegar would have a companion, a real one…”

Sansa’s blood ran cold. The last thing the world needed was more Dragons, the last thing they all needed were Targaryens with Dragons… The last thing her sweet boy needed was a fire breathing monster…

And another thought made her sick to her stomach, because why didn’t she realize until now?

Was Daenerys so ready to accept Doro as another Targaryen because she planned on marrying the children to each other? Would she get from them what Jon wasn’t ready to give her? All the talk about the last dragons mating for a new generation…

It was nothing she wanted to dwell on, but she had to tell Jon… They had to avoid that…

Without thinking much, she changed the subject, at least from the thought of her son atop a dragon…

“But why, if you don’t mind me asking, do you think we could find the Dragon eggs if no one before had found them? Stannis Baratheon had inhabited Dragonstone for quite a while before you reclaimed it for your house. He had a bit of Dragon blood too… His grandmother was your kin.”

Daenerys frowned, obviously insulted in Sansa’s inability to see what she believed to see.

“Stannis Baratheon was a false King, whose blood was not even pure! How do you expect him to accomplish what I have accomplished only by his weak association with house Targaryen? You have witnessed the magic of my blood in my children and in your brother’s deets.”

She winced in guilt at Jon being called her brother. It had been a long while since anyone had brought up that connection so clearly. Sansa loved Jon with all her heart but to remember that she had once named him half-brother, didn’t sit right with her. As children, they were never close as siblings were ought to be but the implications it still held for their marriage now, made her feel dirty.

Jon might be a Targaryen in name, but he was and always would be all Stark.

Daenerys probably didn’t mean anything by calling Jon her brother. She grew up knowing that her parents were siblings and her grandparents… She had only one set of great-grandparents too… Yikes.

“To make it short.”, Sansa snapped back to her Queens speech. Violet eyes were burning with righteousness. “I am the only person to find and hatch those eggs and I will…”

Sansa smiled, but she still felt sick…

“Of course, your Grace…”

“Father!”, Robb shouted over the country yard. He pulled an annoyed Sam behind him. Even when he rolled his eyes at the little Stark heirs’ excitement, but his soft smile betrayed the adoration for his friend. Sam looked so much like his mother these days that it hurt Jon to even see him sometimes. A disgusting part of him understood why Samwell had sent the boys away, but most of him was appalled by this train of thought. Sam was not responsible for the pain Gilly had caused him. If anything he and his siblings suffered the most, being abandoned like that.

“Father.”, Robb repeated. “Sam and I can climb the oak tree in the Godswood so high. Look!” Lysa Tully glared at them from under an apple tree she, Rhae, and Dickon were sitting. She clutched to a book she was reading to the boys. Arthur Connington was sitting a bit further with a few figurines of knights and pretended that he was not listening when he obviously was. It was a romantic tale. A tragedy of a noble heir and his lover from an enemy house.

Evedith and Elanor sat with Cat and Doro in front of each of them. They had a competition who could braid the better hairstyle, while the little Stark girls basked in the attention of their older cousins. “Evie! Evie!” Cat screeched. “That tickles!” Doro giggled at that and petted Elanor’s hand as she put a soft hand thru thick hair. Jon sat with them and he had to suppress his own smile at Lysa’s loud and exaggerated sigh. Lastly, she just yelled at her sisters to be quiet. Just to be scolded in turn by their septa.

The Lannister boys were keeping to themselves, with Jaime leading them with a long stick in his hand like a sword. He was a year older than Robb now and he looked very much like his mother, funnily enough. Lucien was Rhae’s age and he hung at every word his older brother said. Lysander, the youngest lion cub, was three, and instead of listening to his brother’s tale, he watched Robb and Sam climb with shining green eyes.

Jon was the only actual parent there with them right now. Talla had left Dickon and her own Arthur with him, but the Tully children were accompanied by their septa. And the Lannister were accompanied by their head household guard.

He did not mind it that much. He liked spending time with his children. And especially now that Sansa was gone for gods know how long, he found refuge from the turbulence of court life in his little wolves’ smiles.

Doro tapped up to him, Cat behind her. They both twirled around once in their purple and blue dresses in turn. They urged Jon to assess Evedith and Elanor’s work. “Papa!”, Doro called with a serious expression. “You have to decide who wins!” Jon just shrugged and patted her little face. “You both look so beautiful. How could I ever decide? Both of the twins have done such a good job.”

The work was not perfect by far. The braiding technic was a bit messy here and there on both girls. Doro’s braid was a tat crocked, but this was the work of children who were excited about knowledge and experience. “I don’t really know how braids have to look like. Your mother usually finishes your hairstyles.”, he added.

Doro puffed her little cheeks as if she was a chipmunk. “Evie! Nor! My Papa is not helping.” She grabbed her sister who watched him with suspicious blue eyes. “Ask Robb and Rhae? Eddie?”, Cat asked once she got Doro’s attention again.

“Rhae!”, Doro nodded to Cat and changed course halfway back to the Tully girls to meet the eldest of them. Lysa put down her book for the gods knew how many times that day. “Rhae! Who wins?” The Stark girls swirled again. Lysa watched them with pale blue eyes. “Good Job!”, she yelled in her sister’s general direction. “But you both need practice.”

“Apparently Lysa is the best.”, Rhae answered patting Doro’s hair carefully. The girl did not like that. “T’was not a choice.”, she shook her head.

“Lord Jon.” Selma, his daughter’s Septa smiled at him. She was a woman a bit older than him, with soft eyes but a strict sense of duty. She was mostly in charge of Doro and Cat’s education but as she had been a noblewoman too, she also thought the boys’ sums and writing as long as they were here, leaving their Septon behind in Winterfell.

“I will take the boys with me now. Sam will write to his father and Robb will write to your Lady wife and we will see if Rhaegar can do that too yet or not.” Jon made room for her. “Well, let’s see if you can reign them in.”, he commented with half a smile.

“Robb! Rhaegar! Samwell!”, she called.

The boys were all moping but followed their septa inside anyway.

Doro and Cat on the other hand were running into his arms again, demanding a big hug and praise for their patience. Jon gladly accommodated both his girls.

Sansa in contrast was following Daenerys into the catacombs under the castle. It was a place she didn’t look yet and Sansa was not even sure why she needed to be here if the Queen had completed her search mostly already.

There had been no staircase leading down to this. The Queen ordered the ground to be opened and dig, ignoring the criticism her advisors had for it.

The younger woman was praying that they would return empty-handed. Dragons were dangerous and, in her opinion, better stayed extinct anyway.

The walls were high and damp from the sea. Torchlight painted grotesque pictures on them and Daenerys' white hair glowed with it. Sansa’s stomach still hurt, but she attributed it to her anxiety and how uncomfortable the situation made her feel.

It was such a good spot to murder her without raising suspicion. Lady Stark could have just slipped on the wet steps of the underground tunnels of an island castle. Who would name it murder, when it was well in the realm of the possible?

“I knew I was right!”

Sansa startled and look up before them was a solid metal door. It was beautifully worked with intricate carvings of dragons, humans obviously meant to be Targaryens, volcanoes, what little paint was left alluded to a once colorful picture. But the most important thing was: The door had no handle, nothing to open it, and well no indication that there were eggs on the other side.

But Daenerys was convinced that her new hatchlings were right there. She caressed the craving as it was something precious and living. Her violet eyes were glowing in the low light. There was a bronze disc in the center of the doors, exactly where they would open if there had been a handle. It was the Targaryen sigil enticed in raging flames.

Without even hesitating much, the Queen got a short knife from her skirt and before Sansa could stop her, reaching out in blind panic, she cut her palm open. “Daenerys-?”, Sansa was speechless, but the other woman just shushed her, as she pressed her bloody hand to the three-headed dragon.

There was silence.

And when Sansa was already prepared to soothe an upset Queen for her failure, the door rumbled, deep vibration cutting thru their bodies like a knife and with both horror and fascination, Sansa watched as the doors parted with an awful squeaking sound, revealing a round room beyond them. In the dark center of the room lay a finely worked nest made from various metals and inside five stunning eggs – Dragon eggs.

Sansa’s stomach contracted painfully once again, so forceful that she was breathless for a moment. She could not attribute anything to nervousness anymore, but nothing could make her turn away now.

The stone eggs were magnificently beautiful and for a while, she focused on that alone. The first of them was a deep, deep purple with golden veins, sat next to a golden one with a huge white swirl, a blue and yellow one, a pink one with a sky blue splotch, and at last, a green and orange one.

Daenerys cradled the golden one in her hands, the glee in her face almost manic.

The pain was now searing, but Sansa still stepped closer. She was not sure what to do, her head not working properly anymore.

“Your Grace-“ she did not make it further as hot wetness dripped down her thighs, the dizziness made her trip over herself. The last thing she remembered seeing was her Queen turning to her, an odd sense of recognition in her eyes.

Sansa was afraid.

Jon was raging, but his children were afraid as they had little idea what was going on except for the fact that Daenerys had come back to the capital without their mother. He had left them with Brienne and their septa, as he didn’t want them to be present for the talk of death.

He clenched his fists helplessly.

If Sansa was here now, she would tell him to keep cool and choose the more clever approach to this, but she was not here. She was having a heavy fiver on Dragonstone, while Daenerys had just come back to the Red Keep. Leaving his wife behind.

The Queensguard was looking at him, but Jon was ready to fight someone if he had to. After a moment though, Grey Worm out of all people stepped aside for him. A part of Jon wanted to stop and inquire further, but he felt that he would intrude into something private.

Instead, he threw the doors to the small council chamber open and marched in. Tyrion and Varys were the only people there with Daenerys and they looked up to him with worry. But Jon ignored them in favor of his aunt. “How could you leave her?”

With a sigh did Daenerys put beside the documents she was holding; only then did she look up to him. “Nephew? Do you need anything?”

Jon never wanted to hit her more than at this moment and it scared him. Was this his Targaryen heritage? Was this the ghost of his birth father? He refused to call Rhaegar Targaryen anything else. Eddard Stark was his real father.

“I need you to tell me how you could abandon my wife when she was nothing but loyal to you!”, he shouted. Daenerys rolled her eyes and made a curt gesture that signaled her advisors to leave. “Unlike you.”, she got up from her seat slow and deliberately. “Sansa understands the urgency of my cause.”

She then took his hand as to soothe him, but it only fueled the fire in his chest. “Jon. I know that you are angry with me, but I need you to understand. I- Let me show you. You might be raised a Stark, but you are my blood. You must-“

Jon crinkled his brows in confusion now. What was she up to? What was so much more important than the life of Sansa? Daenerys pulled him into the back of the room, there stood a richly decorated chest. In it lay five beautiful eggs. Dragon eggs.

Real Dragon eggs.

She picked up an intricate golden egg and held it to the light in the room, as to admire the glow.

“Drogon doesn’t have to be alone anymore. We can have Dragon’s again. You can ride one of them again. Our children could raise their own and grow up alongside their Dragons. It would be so perfect.”

He was too stunned to actually be too angry. Rage being replaced with surprise. There was no way he would convince her that leaving a sick noble at an understaffed castle in favor of old Dragon Eggs was a mistake.

“Sure, it is sad that your wife did miscarriage, but in the grand scheme of things-”

“Miscarriage?”

His blood ran cold. No. No. He didn’t even know- How-?

“The midwife in the town said, she hadn’t been pregnant long enough to show but it was definitely a miscarriage…” She laid a hand on his biceps. For a moment he really thought she would help him. Feel remorse. Anything.

“Dany.”, the nickname felt sour on his tongue but it did its part and he had her full attention this time. The golden egg sat back in the chest. “Please fly me to Dragonstone…”

The Queen blinked at him, really taken aback right now. “What are you talking about, Jon?” She retreated from him now. “Do you want me to fly to Dragonstone and back just-“ Jon interrupted. “Because I don’t want her to be alone. Dany, I know you love your family.”, he was pleading now. He knew he was. “You have Drogon and the children you lost. But my son, your heir, and nephew is Sansa’s son too. If you don’t do it for me, do it for her and the little ones.”

She watched his face for a moment. He had no means of knowing what she was thinking. He had never been able to tell. He felt like he would never know her. No matter their tense relationship and his disdain for her Targaryen legacy. She only had him and his children, no one else. She had to understand him.

Then she sighed and broke eye contact. “Fine. But only under two conditions: First, you make sure Rhaegar and Daenerys are safe without you. I know that you are planning to leave for Winterfell soon. Either they stay with me or you arrange a more than secure escort North.”, he nodded. All his children missed home. But he could not bring them North and then go see a sick Sansa. The thought that she might die in his absence was unbearable. That she might die alone.

It was a kind of bone-chilling fear that left him suffocating.

_My mother died in childbirth too. Lord Eddard had to watch her die._

_She almost died alone and scared too…_

And there was no way in hell he would leave the children alone at court, not with the history this place had with his family, not without a person capable of arguing with Daenerys. Not like this.

“The second condition?”

“Take an egg per child North. They should be able to bond to make sure they hatch.”

Jon opened his mouth to argue. That taking dragon eggs on such a long journey would be leaving the children, her and Sansa’s heir open for attack. Those were the only known Dragon eggs, they were priceless.

But the stance Daenerys took, made him shut his mouth fast. Jon knew his aunt good enough that he was not in a position to argue here, not if he wanted his family safe. “Fine. I’ll have them come here right away.”

“Good. I will ready everything so we can leave in an hour. I give you three Queensguards to choose from.”

She turned from him then obviously finished with the conversation as she picked the golden egg back up and placed it in the fireplace.

“Fire and Blood.”, she said softly, but Jon was not sure if it was intended for his ears.

“Papa?”, Cat ran into his arms as soon as she spotted him. The girl was still wobbly on her feet when she was tired, but Jon caught his youngest with ease. Rhae sitting in an armchair wait to big for him and held onto Doro as he was giving her puppets to play with.

Sam and Robb were hushed together, and Jon watched them disheartened. 

“Brienne!”, he called his trusty knight, as he soothed his baby girl. “Can you prepare for the children to leave in a few days?” She looked puzzled but did not question him in front of the kids. “Rhae, Doro? Your aunt wants to see you in a few minutes, okay?”

“Papa!”, Cat looked up from the spot on his shoulder she had been laying to glare at him. “Don’t leave Cat.”, he kissed the crown of her hair, but the girl was still puffy and cranky. Doro didn’t seem to be in a cooperative mood either. She hopped out of her brother's lap and marched up to the bed to nestle herself in front of Robb, crossing her little arms in defiance.

Jon suppressed a sigh. And handed Cat to Sam with the promise to come back to her after talking to Brienne. She made him pinky promise and he complied with a smile he could not suppress. When he stepped outside his face faltered.

“Sansa is sick on Dragonstone-“

Brienne’s eyes darkened in silent furry. “The Queen really did just return without her?” Her tone of voice bordered on dangerous. “Yes, and I convinced her to fly me over there in the next hour. I need you to make sure the children will arrive home safely. Take your time with it, but be careful. Please. I mean you are careful! Just-“

“Jon. It’s fine. I worry too.”, She stopped him. He on the other hand Jon closed his eyes for a moment. “Daenerys allowed us to take three Queensguard for the journey. I trust you to make the right decision.”

Nodding the knight patted his head. Jon snorted: “I’ll take the children to her now. See you later.” Walking back into the room, Jon smiled at his children, now sitting all together and arguing over a thing or another. “Roooobb~.”, Rhae whined. “That is not even how that wooorks.”

Robb huffed at that and gave a very wrong explanation of how horse riding worked. Cat and Doro both sat in his lap now, making his face hardly visible for the other two boys. Rhaegar rolled his eyes dramatically at those claims. While Sam looked more than confused. It was adorable.

He had to break it up though. “Guys.”, they all turned immediately. “Papa, is Robb saying a lie?”, Doro asked sternly. “Sweetling.” He put her on his hip. “We can talk about horses later. Your Aunty Dany wants to see you.” He took Cat on his other arm as she was making grabby hands at him. Rhae stood wordlessly and smoothed down his wrinkled doublet. He shot an insecure glance over to Robb and Sam.

“Your aunt wants to see you too, Robb.”, he stated simply. The boy squeezed his friend’s hand before getting up too. There was something undefined in Sam’s eyes.

Balancing the girls, Jon bent down to plant a soft kiss into the boy’s hair. “I will be returning everyone shortly.”, he said weakly. Samwell nodded bravely. “I understand I am not a part of the royal family.” A wobbly smile on thin lips and Jon was on his way. Unfortunately, there was no time to reassure him more.

Back in the council chamber, Dany was already waiting for them. They greeted each other properly and Doro let herself be passed over to her namesake without any complaints this time. Rhae being the refined four-year-old that he was took the hint and also stepped closer.

The egg was still sitting in the fire, glowing with the heat. Robb at his side dug his fingers into Jon’s breeches. It was easy to forget that his clever boy was only five. He put an easy hand in dark hair.

Dany opened the chest again. And the different eggs glittered in the light of candles. All four children gasped. “Pretty!”, Cat was awake suddenly. Robb watched with open mouth. “You two can choose an egg each.”, Daenerys prompted gently.

With wide silver eyes, Rhae starred at her. “Your Maj-esty. For me and Doro?”, he asked tentatively and then turned to gaze upon the large eggs once more. “You need to choose the one that feels right for you.”, she explained. “I want you to have a loyal friend like I have Drogo.”

Rhae nodded and took his sister’s hand. “Doro? Which one is your favorite?” The toddler blew raspberries on her brother’s skin, obviously displeased with her brother’s nervousness. “Smile, Rhae.” Then she turned to the eggs and grabbed after the majestic purple one, the golden veins were almost blinding to them. But she seemed content with the choice she made, as she hugged the dry egg with her whole body.

“Rhaegar?”, the boy caressed every one of the remaining eggs. The pink one with the big flecks of river colored blue, the dark green one with orange clouds drifting by. He stopped at the light blue one that was having many little yellow swirls. He smiled at his aunt, bright and beautiful.

“It’s warm.”

She woke with flattering eyelids. The fever left her shivering and-

“Sansa.”

Was she dreaming? She strained to see better, to get a glimpse, just a glimpse to confirm that she was not losing her mind. Because she felt like she was doing so either way. A big part of her yearned for it to be Jon, so she was not amongst strangers.

A soft hand caressed her hair, sweet and lovingly. It made her try to scoot closer to the warm body next to her bed. The hand that was comforting her. “It will be alright, love.”, the voice whispered in a familiar and nice northern accent. “I am here. It will be alright I won’t go anywhere.”

_Jon_ , she thought, _I want Jon_.

“Jon?”

The hand cupped her face and warm lips pressed against her moist and cold forehead. “Yes, I am here, my Love.” The words echoed fluttery in her heart, but she was not awake enough to categorize why. _My Love_.

She shook with shivers and her Jon, moved readily into bed with her, the heat of his body was something to hold onto. Something solid and so, so warm. She looped her arms around a solid chest as darkness and sleep enveloped her.

Sansa was not that afraid anymore.

When she woke with a start, really woke this time, she found herself flush against someone and- It was Jon. She recognized his smell easily. But what was he doing here? Then she jerked upright, ignoring the pain.

_The children!_

_Her_ children!

“Sweetling, you are awake.” Jon looked up to her with sleep reddened eyes. “You had a rather high fever when I arrived and-“

“Jon! What are you doing here?”, the words were way sharper than she had intended, laced with blind panic and the disorientation of her last few fever-driven days. Her husband embraced her, calm and strong. “They should have left the capital a moment or so ago. Brienne and Grey Worm are with them.”

She looked up. “Cat is two, Doro not older with- I- The boys are young too… I-” Jon looked away. “I know- I know!”, he rubbed his face. “You should have seen your condition yesterday. And I trust Brienne.”

“I do too.”, she was hysterical she knew but it made her heartache. Sansa should have never left her children. Never. Now she was on an island leagues away while her babies were alone on the road with not even their father there…

“Jon-“

“I will take you home as soon as you are better-“, his eyes were dark and pleading. “I could not leave you alone here when there was a chance that you might not survive this. I-“, he stopped and Sansa turned to him, watching him intently. There was something on the verge of being said, she felt it.

Suddenly her heart was in her throat, hammering away. I love him so much, she thought. Why can’t I tell him that?

_I love you._

_I love you._

_The only thing I love more than you are our children._

Jon put his rough hands on her face. She relished in the warmth of it. Slowly those hands turned her towards him. Blue eyes met grey ones.

“I couldn’t let you be here alone.”, he started. Sansa hadn’t seen him this insecure in years. Since they were children. A lifetime ago. “I couldn’t stand the thought that you might suffer here by yourself all alone. After Daenerys abandoned you.”

His fingers caressed her skin in nervous circles. Probably more to his benefit than hers. Sansa put her hands on his neck in turn, prompting him to speak further. Daenerys had abandoned her, didn’t she? For the sake of her new Dragon Eggs…

“Sansa.”

He kissed her nose. Brief and sweet.

“I could not bear the thought that you might die and-“, he stopped again, biting his lips. Sansa still watched him. Her heart was still drumming away, but she understood. She finally understood.

She giggled which earned her a horrified look from Jon. Sansa soothed him, by stroking the fine hair in the back of his neck. “We are both so _stupid_!”, she laughed. Jon still looked like she had lost her mind. (Maybe she had.)

“No, Jon! Listen! I love you too.”

Relieve flooded her as Jon broke out in a reassuring grin too. She could not help herself and pressed a kiss to those pretty lips. “I love you too.”, she repeated.

“Sansa…”, he stroked her hair, tangled and dirty from the long stay in bed. “How can you notice now, when I finally, finally was ready to tell you?”, there was no malice in his voice, just tired amusement. “I am sorry, _husband_. It’s not that we both were too afraid to confess after seven years of marriage and four children.”

“If you say it like that… We are both slow.”

She shook her head. “We were both afraid.”, she corrected.

Sansa knew that was true, between her past suitors and their shared childhood. She had been so, so afraid of rejection. But here they were. And it had to take a tragedy to get this far.

Cradling her belly she shuddered. She had not even known that she was with child. It had been too early to know, but the loss was still hurting regardless. There had been another little Stark that they would never get to see. But it probably had no use to think about it. She could be thankful for her other children and for Jon.

“I love you.”

Nodding Jon kissed her mouth again.

“I love you, Sansa.”


	6. Brandon Stark and Aemon Stark

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And as Jon sat there amongst the people he loved most in the world. His children, his wife, his little sister, he knew they would be fine. That it won’t always be easy but they would be fine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am still here?  
> Sorry it took so long to finish this project lol

Sansa sat by the fire, stitching little dire wolfs into a white dress. A present for little Cat’s fourth name day, that would take a little celebration in a week. She smiled thinking about her children. It had been two years since the horrible night, she had lost a baby she didn’t even know she was carrying at the time.

The shock and the loss had been hard to reconcile with, but Jon had been there for her, and coming home and spending time with her children had lessened the pain.

Daenerys had not called on them or visited since then. Sansa hadn’t even seen her since the day they had found the Dragon Eggs. She would lie if she would say a part of her wasn’t glad about that. But there was a part of her that worried about what the silence meant for Rhae and Doro and in a broader sense for the realm.

The golden egg she had nursed for months had hatched to revile a disappointment. A sickly golden wyvern, blind and crippled. Sansa had not been there but according to many rumors, Daenerys had been unwilling to part from the misformed beast, even though it didn’t let her touch it.

How it died in the end….? There had been conflicting reports. Some said it had refused to eat, starving itself to death. Others said a Queensguard had sliced it in half after it tried to attack Daenerys. Most of them swore up and down that Drogon had disobeyed his mother and eaten the poor being right than and there, not recognizing it as one of his own.

For the two eggs she had given Sansa’s children: They were staying in their respective rooms but nothing had happened to them in the last two years.

“Mother!”, Robb did not knock or stop before running up to her. His face was rosy with excitement. “Father came back from hunting! He brought a whole deer back!”, Little hands flew in the air, as to visualize how big one deer was. Little Sam was trailing behind him, holding Rhae’s hand.

Something that her boy only liked to do when the Starks were in the privacy of their own home. Many people didn’t like him still seeking physical comfort from his friends so extensively since he was now a boy of seven. It had something to do with their definition of how boys and men should behave.

Sam being gentle with both Stark boys, had no problem indulging his friend once in a while. Sansa suspected he rather enjoyed the feeling of being needed.

With a smile, Sansa brushed thru all their hair and kissed three brows. “I am sure your father and his men brought us some good supper.” She put her work aside and stood readily. Rhae touched the white fabric and his own silver eyes grew round. “Is this for Cat?”, he asked in a whisper. Winking she put a finger to her lips as to hush him. “It’s a name day surprise.”

The boy blinked once and then copied the gesture while assessing her work. He held the dress to his taller form, smoothing out the fabric. “It looks very nice, Mama! Cat will love it.” Smiling she took it back and tugged it neatly into her supply basket.

“Everything Mama makes is perfect and pretty!”, Robb declared. “Am I right, Sam?” He looked at his best friend expectedly and the boy blushed a bit. “Yes, Lady Starks stitching is very nice…” He ran a finger over the green huntsman she had stitched into his tunic.

“Thank you, boys.”

They all beamed adorably and her heart grew double the size.

“Where are the girls?”, she asked carefully.

“They run to greet, Papa! Cat was cranky that he wasn’t home today and-!”

The door opened swiftly, but Sansa heard the giggles and squeals of her girl before Jon eve reached the room. Doro and Cat were pressed to their father’s chest talking loudly over each other to explain what they did today. Jon smiled down at them even though he looked positively frozen, snow still clinging to his dark hair and heavy boots.

“Girls, I think your Papa needs a moment to warm up by the fire.”, she suggested gently transferring Doro to her lap with ease. It made her nostalgic in the best way. She was four now and it felt like yesterday that she was just a babe born in the Red Keep of all places.

Cat, on the other hand, shook her head stubbornly. “My Papa!”, she announced shooting daggers at her brothers who had missed their father too. Jon chuckled at that and sat on a chair next to Sansa, placing the fuzzing girl on his lap.

When he reached over to kiss his wife the girl complained loudly, but Sansa was kissed anyway, smiling. Cat pulled at Jon’s hair tough, jealous. “Kitty-“, he started. Then he sent a helpless glance to Sansa who chuckled but she reached over and patted her baby’s head.

“Your Papa loves all of us all.”

Seeing Cat bury herself in Jon’s coat again, being all wild dark brown hair and a demanding personality reminded her of Arya as a child. She had always been their father’s daughter, being as close to Ned as Sansa was to Catelyn. It made her heart ache for both the time she lost with her own father due to his untimely death and her little sister she hadn’t heard from in years.

With a determent shake of her head, she banished the yearning, just in time to see her daughter sit up again with a crinkled up face. “Fine! Papa can love Rhae and Robb and Doro and mama, but Cat is his favorite girl!”

Jon laughed, deep and loud and perfect. “Mama can be number two,” Doro said with a shrug, leaning into her mother. “I love Mama best and then Robb and Rhae and of course Lady Brienne.” She watched Jon’s faux hurt look for a moment. “Sorry, Papa!”

The little girl giggled in glee at her own joke, trying desperately to appear earnest about her statement, but resolved fast to plant kisses first on Jon’s and then on Cat’s face. “Stooooop!”, Cat swatted at her sister, glaring.

“Cat is my baby sister.”, Doro smiled and kissed her squishy cheek again as to accent the statement.

“Cat is a big girl!”, the youngest Stark protested. “Cat is this many old soon!” And she stretched her hand out showing her age with three fingers.

“No, you are our baby!”

“Am not!”

“Baby sister!”

“Noooooo”

Sansa pulled Doro away from her sister to make sure they wouldn’t resort to hitting each other and set her down to her brothers gently. Cat for her part hugged her Father tight again and then climbed over to Sansa, which came as a bit of a surprise. “Mama.”, she said with a serious little face. “I want to have a little sister too.”

Blinking for a moment Sansa broke into a smile. One that her darling girl serve misinterpreted. “You don’t understand. Doro has Cat, Rhae has Doro, and Robb and Sammy have all of us!” She gestured to the oldest boys. “And I don’t want more brothers! Boys are stupid sometimes.”

“I want a baby sister, Mama!”

Later that night Sansa lay next to her Jon with a broad grin on her lips. He could not help but stare at her. It had been hard since she had, no they had lost the last child, but Sansa had certainly suffered the most. Which made Jon wish he could fight the whole world just to make certain she would be happy.

He extended a hand to brush his fingertips along her temple. Caressing her lovely skin.

“Do you think we should try to fulfill Cat’s wishes…”

Stoping, Jon propped up to look her in the eyes, but Sansa’s facial expression was unreadable. “Sansa…” Again he reached for her, took her hands in his. “You don’t have to do that.” And then to accent his point. “I don’t want to lose you. I almost did”

“But think about it: We only have one boy. One heir. I love Rhae but legally, he is hers. Just as Doro, another child, another boy would be secure. Safety for the North.”

Jon wanted to scream that he didn’t care about the North if it meant losing her because deep down he knew it to be true. After everything he did to help the people here, he would risk it gladly for Sansa’s health. They were happy. Why put that on the line? Risking their children to grow up without a mother. She didn’t have to do that.

Sansa seemed to know exactly what he was thinking just from looking at him, then again he never had much of a poker face. She got closer to him, nestling herself against his chest, warm and alive. “Besides, I missed you inside of me…”

Jon swallowed painfully. “We can be careful.” He tried again. “We don’t have to have another child, especially if it puts you in danger. You did your duty. I won’t permit it.” He would not be selfish with her, marrying her, loving her was already selfish enough. This won’t be happening.

Cat’s fourth name day was a bright spring morning and her siblings seemed overall more excited than the girl, who had woken cranky and had to be persuaded to wear her dress. When Rhae had watched her wail with a frown, he had explained that their Mama had made it especially for Cat’s name day and that it would be a shame if she did not wear it.

The girl had looked up to Sansa and blinked her tears away in confusion. “Mama it is pretty but Cat doesn’t want to be wearing… much. Cat wants to sleep some more.” Sansa had taken her into her arms easily and kissed the tears away. “How about I will let you pick out your own ribbon for your hair today and we go eat cake with your Papa?”

She nodded still sniffing. Smiling at her mother in a way that made Sansa melt inside. This was her baby slowly and slowly growing all up.

Cat choose a sky blue lace ribbon for her dark hair, which was accentuating her blue eyes. Sansa loved the quiet moments she had alone with her children, there was something fleetingly beautiful about them. When she helped Robb with his numbers as he didn’t want to acknowledge to the Septon that he was struggling, his wide eyes when she told him that it had been her weakest subject. The evenings when she would whisper stories to Rhae because he was the only one who couldn’t hear enough about heroes. Doro singing softly to herself while she kept Sansa company while mending, in the rare moments her energy calmed.

And now she was listening to little Catelyn rant on about the things she learned, a child of two experiencing the world for the first time.

When Sansa was finished Cat waddled to vanity and grabbed for a second similar ribbon. “Can Doro have too?”, she asked easily.

But when she had spent the morning with the other children, being coddled and praised, the all-present excitement caught up to her eventually.

Jon was going thru some of the produce that had come in that morning when the news came. Taking stook himself was irregular for him as it was something Sansa insisted on doing but he wanted her to take a break since she was pregnant, again. (He pushed the sharp feeling of guilt aside. Sometimes he was tired of all this guilt pilling up, threatening to bury him alive.)

But he all but ran to the gates then.

Arya was coming home.

His little sister was coming home to them.

She was not hard to spot riding front and center between her sailors, Gendry by her side. She looked a bit taller, grown into her Stark looks with the time he had not seen her. Gendry on the other hand was all his Father or how Jon had imagined a young Robert Baratheon all those years ago listening to Ned Starks tales; a lifetime ago.

But there was a little girl sitting on the saddle in front of Gendry, maybe a bit younger than Rhaegar. She looked like her father, all big dark blue eyes and black messy hair that whipped around her in the wind. She was craning her neck to take the whole castle in.

Jon could not take his eyes from her. He had a niece.

Arya had spied him out a long time ago and she hopped off her horse as soon as possible before Jon could even blink, before her thin arms wrapped around his middle. “Hello.” A smile against his chest. “I have missed you so much.”

He pressed back, relishing in the feeling of having his baby sister back by his side. “I have missed you too, we all have. Hells, Arya, you took your time to came back.” She looked up, a smile dancing in her grey eyes. “But I did come back after all.”

Gendry stepped up to them and pressed Jon to his chest in turn.

But before they could strike up a conversation his sister made herself known again. “Jon. There is someone who wants to meet you.” The little girl was hanging on her mother’s coat. “Jon this is Georgie. Georgie, say hello to your uncle Jon.”

With a soft smile did he kneel in front of her to be on eye level. “Hello, little wolf, welcome home. We-“

“Papa? Who came?”, Robb was standing halfway between the door and them, Sam and Rhae with him and Doro and Cat hanging onto Brienne who seem to have been task with collecting the Starklings who should have been having their lessons right now. “My Lord-“

A window opened and Sansa leaned out, hair loose and one of Jon’s cloaks wrapped around her instead of a proper dress. She gasped adorably when she caught sight of her sister. The children on the other hand seemed confused.

Robb bridged the distance confidently and starred up to Arya with the same dark grey eyes she had. Another heartbeat and his eyebrows knitted together. “Are you-? Are you my aunt Arya? Our Aunty Arya?”

“Aunty Arya?”, Doro wiggled out of Brienne’s grip and moved to her brother’s side. Her dark hair had grown out to have a more Auburn hue now that she was older. It was still way darker than Sansa’s or even Lady Catelyn’s had been but it was a strange combination of her Tullyesq hair with her Targaryen lilac eyes. She passed Rhae and Sam with sure strides and came to hold next to Robb examining the newcomers.

Jon smiled again at Georgie and moved to his own children. “Arya, Gendry, Georgie. Meet Robb my oldest.”, his eldest smiled bright and brilliantly bowing charmingly to his little cousin. “Rhaegar.” Doro made a face. “Don’t call him that. That’s Rhae.” Jon hummed noncommittally. Rhae for his part came closer to say hi, but he still sought the safety of his siblings out. “The loud girl over there is Doro. And the little wildfire over there is Cat.”

It was heartwarming to watch Arya interact with his family with the hundred questions they all had for her and Gendry, the urgent way Robb tried to include Georgie immediately into their conversation. The girl seemed a bit overwhelmed. Something Jon could not fault her for. She had only known her parents and the stories that Arya surely told her. Right now, four curious children tried to get to know her all at once.

“Lady Sansa, you should not-“, their poor Maester didn’t even finish his sentence as his stubborn wife stomped past them, all the frightening and cold Lady Stark, to pull Arya into a crushing hug. “I had time to imagine the worst.” She whispered in the other woman’s hair. “Never stay away so long again!”

Arya chuckled into her hair. “You are not allowed to give me orders, Sansa.”

“It’s Lady Stark to you.”

“Well, then it’s Captain Stark to you.”

They both grinned at each other like little girls.

“Mama.”, Robb was holding on to Rhae’s hand again. Doro and Cat who had left Brienne behind to join her siblings were framing the boys, as well as Doro was pulling Sam along who had kept his distance from the family. “Aunty Arya. Can we go and play with Georgie in the Gods’ wood?”

When they got a positive answer, the children pulled their cousin happily along.

Jon watched Arya watch them, with a light in her dark eyes he had direly missed during their last reunion. Maybe distance did make the heart grow fonder. If Sansa gripping her sister’s hand still was anything to go by, anyway.

“Sansa-“, he started, already being met with a defined gaze, he has only seen in two other people before: Arya when she was around eight and didn’t get what she wanted because of her gender and his Doro if she didn’t get what she wanted at all.

Wasn’t it funny that his perfect Lady Wife discovered her hardheadedness so late in life?

“Sansa.”, another try then. “You heard the Maester you are only allowed to officiate the wedding if you rest enough beforehand. Running thru the keep in your in my cloak id not resting.”

“I am sure the Maester could not foresee my sister coming back from her year-long voyage, with a whole child.”

“What should I have returned with half a child?”, Arya snickered, but Jon saw her squeeze Sansa’s hand back just as tenderly. “Speaking off: You two idiots, have been busy, huh?”

“Arya!”

“What? Just stating the obvious…”

Jon suppressed a nervous laugh as Sansa stepped into his waiting arms, pressing so nicely into his side. She belonged here, next to him warm and alive. “We figured some things out while you two been gone.”, Sansa said non-committal, putting a hand on her belly.

Gendry sighed a laugh, slicing the awkward energy up, easily. Things seemed to be always easy with Gendry. “It won’t be boring with so many little Starks here. Georgie will love being home. Even if she technically never been.”

Shaking her head, Arya seemed content to follow her husband’s example for now.

Brienne was standing in front of a looking glass, twisting in the modest white dress that was made for her. She looked somehow both adorable and utterly uncomfortable. Well, Sansa guessed those things were in no shape or form mutually exclusive.

So, she got up from her seat by the fire, sure she was already round with child, way bigger than her belly had been with her other children. The Maester had suggested that she might deal with twins which were not something she wanted to dwell on right now.

She wore a dark silver dress, warm with wool and adorned with the dire wolf of her family. She really had to stop being pregnant at weddings. As she stepped closer, Brienne made eye contact with her thru the mirror. “Were you that nervous at your wedding?”

Sansa sighed. “Yes, I antagonized over the fact that I was in love with my brother/cousin turned forced husband, Brienne.” The older woman grinned. “I am glad that the two of you found a way to sort out your feeling. Maybe next time don’t almost die before admitting anything.”

Was it too rude to shove ha bride on her wedding day?

(Not that Sansa in her state (or at all) could do Brienne any harm in the first place.)

“But I suppose everyone is nervous. It is a big step one way or another.”, the other woman nodded, smoothing over the lace the bodice of her dress was decorated with.

“It will be alright, Brienne. He adores you.”, Sansa insisted. “You will have a smooth and beautiful ceremony and a fun feast and it will be alight, you will see.”

Brienne snapped her attention away from her reflection, seemingly giving up on trying to appear more feminine here. “That is part of the problem…”

“A smooth sailing ceremony?”

“That Hyle fell in love with me!”, she looked distressed. “Because he is my friend and I adore him and by the gods I am marrying him, but I don’t know if I can ever love him, because-“ she came to a sudden stop and clapped her mouth shut into a strict line.

Because she is still in love with Jaime Lannister.

Sansa didn't say anything through. She just opened her arms for her friend as far as her unborn allowed. Sansa knew better than talk about the Kingslayer who ultimately decided to die with Cersei than live with Brienne who loved him and had believed him to love her too.

Maybe he had, but evidently, he had loved his sister more, loved her enough to die by her side. Unfortunately, he had taken Brienne’s maidenhood before gaining the clarity that he in fact had not loved her, leaving Brienne in an impossible position on the marring market.

And of course, one that had alienated her from her father until now.

Brienne, as her father's only heir, needed to marry to keep Tarth for her family. But her hand in marriage was very unattractive and she knew it. With Daenerys new law, the man that would marry her would no longer rule Tarth but would just be the husband to a ruling Lady which to Brienne’s physic that still was ridiculed behind her back occasionally and the (true) rumors that she was not a maiden anymore, kept suiters even from a lower rank than her away.

Only Hyle had asked her for her hand in marriage. A tall knight of house Hunt with an easy smile, who had respect for Brienne since they both served Renly. He had proclaimed his adoration for her on many occasions since being betrothed.

Brienne was the one who had insisted on marriage in Northern Tradition just to honor house Stark and the region she had called her home for the last years one final time. Hyle had no objections and so the wedding was planned.

It was of course to mention that Ser Hyle still married up. His child would be Lord or Lady of Tarth. Brienne had confided in Sansa that she felt relive over Hyle’s bastard girl. since she was in her thirties now it was more difficult to conceive and survive. So one way or another there was someone she could ask Daenerys to legitimize if the time came…

Sansa did not know how to feel about that, was it the scenario her mother had always feared when they still thought Jon Eddard’s bastard. But alas it was not her decision to make nor to question.

“Maybe you will learn to love him with time, maybe not. It is just important to be honest with each other, no matter how hypocritical that sounds from me.”

Brienne laughed at last and soon after Sansa left her to assume her place by the heart tree.

Jon stood with his children in the god’s wood trying to keep his little ones in line. Tonight in the light of torches they all wore Stark colors. Georgie was right there in the mix. The girl had no qualms about being a part of their little pack after warming up to her cousins.

Doro and Cat were pleased that it was even ground between boys and girls at playtime. (Ignoring the fact that Sam did not involve himself too much in the Starklings quarrels.)

Tonight they were all excited to show off their fancy clothes and have a celebration with their favorite knight. That’s being said Hyle made a close second since he was outgoing and not shy to help the little children in their adventure around the keep. After giving him a hard time for all five minutes they excepted him as the fiance of their favorite.

Hyle Hunt was standing now before his wife before the heart tree to swear his love to Brienne and become her wife. To his credit, he looked nervous as if half expected Brienne to flee the wedding.

It was no secret to him and the people close to Brienne that this was more a marriage of convenience for the bride, but Jon for his part hoped his friend would find some happiness there. It would be too sad if she left for her old home only to live her life on in misery.

Gendry and Arya were standing beside them also sporting Stark colors in matching jerkins and cloaks (No one got Arya in a dress if she didn’t want to anymore). It warmed Jon’s heart to see how their pack had grown in the absence but it was their family still nonetheless.

Especially Rhae had found a new favorite in his Aunt Arya, listening to her stories of the sea and adventures until his little eyes fell closed at night.

They were all standing in attendance in the summer snow as Lord Tarth escorted his daughter to the heart tree.

Brienne’s dress was almost not visible with the sheer size of the cloak she wore. A cloak the Ladies of Winterfell under Sansa had worked on for weeks.

Speaking of his wife she was standing in front of all those people, round with child once more. Still, she was able to command all their attention as their Lady. Her melodic voice carried thru the stillness of the night:

“Who comes before the Old Gods this night?"

"Ser Brienne, of the House Tarth, comes here to be wed. A woman grown and flowered, trueborn and noble. She comes to beg the blessing of the Gods.”, Lord Selwyn answered with a sure grip on the rehearsed words.

Brienne took her place next to her groom, towering over him as she did with most people, but they smiled at each other anyway.

“Who comes to claim her?”

Sansa beamed at them while she carried on.

“Ser Hyle.”, the man was only looking at his bride as he answered the call of the old gods., “Of House Hunt, cousin of Lord Addam Hunt.”

“Who gives her away?”

“Selwyn of House Tarth, her Father.”

“Will you take this man?”

Brienne looked at Sansa, the serious line of her mouth, at the grotesque face of the wierwood. She smiled at her soon to be husband with sad blue eyes. “Yes, I will take this man.”

Ser Hyle beamed up at her as if to mend all her hurtful wounds. Against tradition it was Brienne who cloaked her husband with a matching cloak with the colors of Tarth, welcoming him into her family. He took her face into his callous hands and kissed her cheek sweetly.

They all moved to the great hall. The bride pair leading their party in.

The feast itself was a happy event. The oppressively strict atmosphere of the God’s Wood was replaced by the excited laughter of children.

Sansa watched on her place on the Deas how Hyle was laughing at something Brienne had said while they all were waiting for the first course of this wedding feast. It would be fine. Even if her friend was not a blushing bride.

The morning after the festivities Jon was getting ready to ride out when he was surprised by Gendry at the stables. “Morning Lord Snow.”, he grinned that lopsided grin of his. “Good Morning to you to Lord Waters.”

“I am no lord.”

“But I am?”

Jon raised a single eyebrow in mock confusion. Gendry’s grin only widened. “You are sure dressed like one. Can I keep you company for a bit?”

So they prepared and saddled their horses and setting out into the low-lying hills of the northern King’s road.

“So.”, Jon brought his stallion into trot next to Gendry’s. “It is good to have you back. How has the sea treated you? A few things have changed.”

“Did I think that would be a father someday? Definitely not. I mean if anyone understands than you, Jon- But Gorgie is the best thing that ever happened to me, next to meeting Arya all those years ago.” He smiled so brightly and warm, he could have single-handily taw the whole plain.

“She is a good kid.”, Jon agreed. “Rhae could listen to Arya for weeks and Robb is I think both impressed and jealous that Georgie got to live essentially a pirate life.”

“I am pretty sure that Georgie in turn wishes she would have a bit less haze and more of a stable home as a young child.”

The rode a bit in silence before Gendry broke it again: “Sooo, your children. If I count correctly there are a bit more than two…”

Jon chuckled. “Yeah, I figured out that Sansa loved my back actually quite recently.”

“Recently?”

Gendry stooped full in his tracks and Jon had trouble keeping up with him. “Jon. You and Sansa had been mutually in love with each other since before we left you to have _four_ children with her being pregnant again The eldest of which is eight _fucking years_ old. And you found out recently that she loves you?”

“Yes?”

“By all the gods! You are by far the stupids person I have ever met!”

“Yea?”, Jon laughed as Gendry punched his shoulder. “Sansa thought your relationship is convenience until then too and she is smart. So, maybe, _maybe_ , I am not that stupid.”

“Some people are smart only when it doesn’t concern their feelings. I am actually not surprised that Sansa has trouble decern between emotions. She probably thought that marrying for love after all was too good to be true…”

Jon ignored the sharp tug of guilt to his heart and tried with more humor: “Sana gets a pass and I don’t?”

“Sansa isn’t overall stupid…”

They raced each other back to the castle like young boys.

“Good Morning, my Lady. Is the space taken?”

Sansa lay in bed, her baby making her need to pee again, but she also didn’t want to leave the warmth of her furs. The compromise was just to lay there for a bit.

Arya didn’t even really wait for an answer she just hoped on Jon’s side of the bed and pressed her cold feet against Sansa’s, which make the older woman squeal into her hand.

“That was completely unnecessary!”, she could with all her willpower not ban the smile from her face. Arya grinned too. “I missed you too, Sansa. I wanted to get some time with my only sister alone before the children wake. Like I missed Jon too and the others and I love being an Aunt. But it always felt like we lost more time together because as kids we were always fighting…”

Sansa tipped her fingers against Arya’s skull: “Are you still drunk from yesterday or why are you in such a mellow mood, sister dear?”

Arya sighed dramatically and flopped to the open space to the side. “Sansa! I try to have a mature conversation with you about my feelings and you are not being helpful? I-“ She rubbed her knuckles over her closed eyes and sighed again. “I heard that you almost died last year, from a miscarriage nonetheless and one – was I not here for that and two – you are pregnant again, which is fucking scary.”

With a soft smile did Sansa watch her little sister care for her. She had aged in the years they had spent apart. She was well into adulthood now, but still as swift and small as ever.

“Are you laughing at me?”, Sansa did not answer but only giggled. “Scandalous”, Arya rolled back so they were next to each other again. “Stupid Sansa. Can’t even be thankful that I worry about her. I should have left you in the wolf's wood when we were children…”

“Shut up and come up here so I can smooch your brow.”, Sansa laughed.

“No. You are not our mother!”

They both laughed like that for a while. Just the two of them being silly. Like that nothing else seems to matter much right now.

Finally, Sansa got ahold of Arya or more likely Arya let herself be kissed.

“I have missed you too. A lot.” They had changed position so that Arya’s ear was now pressed to Sana’s belly, listening to the sound that new life may or may not produce. Sansa was sprawled out on the bed, utilizing the fact that Jon had departed so early today.

Sansa felt her throat tighten with emotion she could not express properly. Would she cry here with her little sister in the early morning hours? Why? Because she was afraid? Afraid to lose again?

“Sansa. I got a letter from Tyrion Lannister.”, the other Stark woman’s eye’s opened again hasty. “What?”

Arya watched her reaction with an unreadable look in her eyes. “The Queen wants me to report about my travels soon. Whatever soon means in this context. I- Is she good for the children to Rhae in particular-“

“And Doro.”, Sansa added with an almost sad tone. Two of her children belonged to Dany. “Why Doro too?”, Arya scoffed. “Wasn’t she happy with one heir?”

“No. Only one child was too insecure for her and I think she intends to marry them to each other to save the Targaryen line.”

“I- Why? Why them? Why us?”

“I don’t know, but Arya is careful with her. She is not mad like her father but she acts like she is entitled to everything in the seven kingdoms. You. Me. Every private conversation and dream. It must all be hers.”

Jon was an anxious mess, which should not have been the focus of Arya right now since Sansa was in labor but then between his horrible thoughts of Sansa dying it occurred to him that she was an anxious mess too but was a better actor.

Anyway, the two of them plus Gendry were pacing up and down in front of Sansa’s room. Well, he was pacing, Arya denied she was pacing and Gendry tried his best to not make Sansa angrier by having them pace in front of her room during labor.

Maybe she had kicked them all out when their dotting was too much. Jon did not want to dwell on it…

The only person left that was not a Maester or a midwife was Ser Brienne, who was the Person Sansa had chosen to hold her hand. The trusty knight had been both nervous and relieved that her Lady had gone into labor as it meant she would still be here to help, was it in a few days’ time she and her new husband would make for Stormlands and Tarth. The friendship the two women shared was something Jon was glad for. Sansa had always wished for a true knight in her life and after everything that happened Brienne had been exactly that.

After long agonizing hours that Jon would never get used to, the Maester called them in. Jon rushed and Arya rushed and Gendry refused to intertwine with Stark family business until Arya dragged him along, reminding him that he was a Stark now too.

And then Jon met his son for the first time and his twin brother. Maybe they should have picked out more names. Sansa was not only still breathing but laughing an airy laugh as she was dotting on both her new little wolfs.

“Meet little Brandon.”, Sansa put one of the infants into Jon’s arms. He had a mob of dark brown hair like his siblings. “And of course.”, his wife made short eye contact with Jon. “Meet his stubborn little brother Aemon.”

Arya’s brow crinkled in confusion and Sansa sighed tiredly. Jon smiled at his little sister: “Maester Aemon had been great guidance for me when I was on the wall even if he didn’t know that I was his kin. I- I told Sansa about him a time or two.”

“I’m just mostly disappointed that it’s no girl that you all could have named Arya.”, she said with half a smile. “I don’t present to understand why it had to be another Targaryen name but- I won’t complain about having more little boys-“

There was a knock on the door and the Septa let in the waiting siblings and cousin. The boys were as excited as ever, with Cat being a bit intimidated, constantly asking if her Mama was sure she was not hurting.

The little girl had never seen Sansa that exhausted that bedridden and Jon thought about how he once thought Lord Stark invincible too. What a strange concept of youth. That once parents could be such a constant that children thought they knew everything, could do anything, and that nothing could hurt them. He hugged Doro closer to his chest. He prayed it would like this a while longer.

But they all flocked around the babe’s with interest, asking a bunch of questions but first and foremost how there could be two babe’s at the same time which prompted Jon to point out that their Tully cousins were also twins.

Cat’s eyes were still round, tough: “Mama.”, she whispered. “How are they so small? And how do I play with them if they are so small…”

“You were also small.”, Robb provided. “And you have to wait until they can play. We had to wait for you to grow too.”

“No.”, the girl decided. “Cat was never that small!”

“Yes, you were!”, they all laughed and Sansa promptly kissed Kitty’s stubborn head.

“Which one of them is older?”, Rhae asked, concentrating on other things than his quarreling siblings. He eyes their dark looking eyes and tiny fingers.

And as Jon sat there amongst the people he loved most in the world. His children, his wife, his little sister, he knew they would be fine. That it won’t always be easy but they would be fine.


End file.
